


Stiles is the world’s worst sex worker

by Bunnywest



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, First Time, Good Peter Hale, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Rimming, Scott was never bitten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2018-12-17 08:00:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 33,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11847330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnywest/pseuds/Bunnywest
Summary: Scott turns his hurt face on Stiles.“But you’re planning to sleep with a stranger for money Stiles, it’s literally the definition of a sex worker. Please, think about this”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SophiSinclair](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophiSinclair/gifts).



> For Seifer  
> I promised to write you something for that cute picture - here it is. Hope you like it, darling boy.

”Jesus Scott, stop calling me that, it makes this sound worse than it is!”

Scott turns his hurt face on Stiles. “But you’re planning to sleep with a stranger for money Stiles, it’s literally the definition of a sex worker. Please, think about this”

Stiles shrugs. “It’s a one shot, Scotty, that’s all. I get banged, I get paid, badda bing, badda boom, not a virgin anymore and I go back to college with a chunk of cash, and I don’t have to work at that stinking café. Where’s the down side?”

Scott can see Stiles is determined to go ahead with this, but he can’t help himself. “At least get paid up front, then?”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Fine, if I promise to get paid up front will you leave me be?”

Scott grudgingly agrees to leave it alone. Once he’s left, Stiles posts his ad on the internet. He thinks it sounds enticing, and like he’s ready for a good time.

_Young 19 y/o virgin male. I need someone to teach me all they know, and show me how to have a good time. Highest bidder takes the prize._

He’s attached a photo of himself that shows his chin down to his groin, stopping just short of the money shot. Below is listed the gmail address he made specially for this. He goes to bed, and hopes he’ll have a bid by morning.

 

* * *

 

He has 17 bids by morning, and he’s freaking out. Some of these guys have a decidedly different definition of ‘have a good time’ than he does. Getting tied to a bench and fucked by a great Dane as one man suggested certainly doesn’t sound appealing. Neither do the guys who want to _stretch you so wide you’ll gape and then fuck you raw_.

He’s just grateful that they don’t seem to have the cash to put in a serious bid. There are a couple, though.

 _The things I could teach you, sweet boy, everything you’ll ever need to know_ is all  one of them says.

 _I could make your first time so special_ is another.

They both have cash bids attached. Ten thousand dollars each. Stiles emails them both and tells them that the bidding is tied, just to see what they’ll do. He can’t sit at home watching the computer all day, so he goes out to take lunch to his Dad. He only home for a couple of weeks on semester break, and he wants to spend as much time with the older man as he can.

When he comes home several hours later, he checks the emails. One bidder has dropped out, and he’s sad to see it was the one offering to make it special. The other bidder, though. He’s doubled his offer, and attached a photo similar to Stiles’ with a message saying _this might sweeten the pot, darling._

Stiles snorts. Cocky, much?

Although he must admit, from what he can see the man’s mouthwateringly attractive. He thinks about it. He could wait for more replies, but he’s worried this will turn into one of those viral news stories, and he’d sooner this doesn’t get back to the Sheriff.

Also, 20K. And damn, the guy’s hot. He shoots off a reply. _Where are you based? I’d like to meet you._

The answer comes quickly. **Is that a yes?**

_It’s a maybe, if you’re close._

The guy can’t be too far away, thinks Stiles. He’d only posted that ad for a 500 mile radius.

 **I’m in** **Beacon hills.**

Shit. Shitshitshit.

He probably knows this guy. He looks at the photo again. There’s something about that neck that’s maddeningly familiar, but he can’t concentrate, he keeps getting distracted by the rest of the body. _Send me a photo of your face?_  He asks.

The reply takes a few minutes to come through, time Stiles spends alternately panicking and telling himself to chill, dude.

**Oh I don’t think so Stiles. That would spoil the surprise. But I will meet you. Tonight, 8pm at the Beacon Court Motel, room 24.**

He reads the message and starts to freak the fuck out. Somebody knows who he is just from his body shot, and someone wants to pay him to sleep with him, and he has no idea who the fuck it is. May be Scott was right, and this was a bad idea. Maybe he should cancel the whole thing. But somewhere at the back of his mind, the phrase _The things I could teach you, sweet boy_ echoes, and he has to admit he’s curious.

Also, that body. He’s never been known for exercising caution, after all.

* * *

 

 

Stiles gets there at five to eight, and knocks nervously. The door swings open, and Peter Hale stands there, looking furious. He grabs Stiles by the wrist and drags him inside, slamming the door behind him. “I really thought you were smarter than this, Stiles” he snaps.

Stiles stands there sputtering, saying “hey, you invited me!”

“It was a test, you idiot. I wanted to see if you’d actually be stupid enough to turn up alone to a motel to meet a stranger for sex, without first discussing payment, limits or condoms, and without getting any kind of details.”

He smacks Stiles around the back of his head. It’s not hard, but it smarts, and Stiles exclaims “Hey! That hurt!”

Peter turns to face him, arms folded, and asks him “And what are you going to do about it? Let me guess, nobody knows you’re here, and there’s nobody waiting for a text or a call to make sure you’re OK. I could kill you and bury you before anybody knew you were gone.”

Stiles looks down and scuffs his feet. “Scotty knows” he mumbles.

“So, Scott is waiting for you to call him then?”

“…..not exactly, he just knows I’m doing this.”

Stiles looks at Peter curiously then, and asks “Why do you even care? I’m with you, so I’m probably safe, so why don’t we just go ahead and do it?”

Peter runs his hands over his face and sighs. “I told you I’d teach you everything you need to know. And I will. Sit down and we’ll get started”.

Stiles sits on the couch, wondering what the hell they’re going to do. Peter pulls out a notebook and throws it at him along with a pen, and tells him “take notes, and keep up.”

He flips open a laptop, and starts throwing information at Stiles. Likelihood of a sex worker getting an STD. Likelihood of a sex worker getting assaulted. The basics of kink negotiation. Safewords.

Condoms, condoms, condoms.

Half an hour in, Stiles holds up a hand, stopping Peter in mid sentence. “Not that this isn’t fascinating, but I thought you wanted to sleep with me?”

Peter stops in his rapid fire delivery of information then, and seems to realize that he’s gotten carried away. “Sorry, but I just hate the thought of you doing this for a living and not being safe” he apologizes. “Now, would you like me to help you draft a price list for when you start working properly?”

Stiles stares at him. “Peter? What the fuck are you talking about?”

Peter looks at him, brow furrowed. “I just want to make sure that when you start your new career you’re prepared. “

Stiles is confused now. “New career? What the hell are you talking about? I mean, the info’s nice and all, but don’t you think its overkill for a one-time thing?”

“One time thing” Peter repeats.

“Well yeah, I figured someone would pay to be my first, and then I wouldn’t have to work for the rest of the year. One and done.”

Peter stalks over to where Stiles is sitting, puts his face mere inches from Stiles’ own, and hisses out “I’ve been talking about safe sex and limits for half an hour, and you have no intention of being a hooker.”

“What? Of course not! Why the hell would you think that? Jesus, Peter, I only planned to do this once, and now you’ve screwed me over with your damned interfering. You know I turned down another bid for this, right? And now I’ve wasted this evening with you and I’ve probably lost my chance with the other guy, now.”

He’s seriously pissed.

And then Peter tells him “Actually, the other bid was mine as well. I wasn’t sure if you’d be more interested in pleasure or knowledge, so I covered my bases. I knew you’d pick one of them”.

“Oh, that’s just fucking marvelous! The two decent offers I had and they were both from you. Jesus fucking Christ on a popsicle stick, this just keeps getting better. You know what? Fuck it, forget the whole damn thing, I’ll just go and screw some guy in a bar, and keep my job at the damned coffee shop!” he shouts angrily, striding towards the door.

Peter moves faster, and blocks his exit. He stands in front of the door with his arms folded across his chest, saying “Not so fast, Stiles. We had a deal”.

Stiles stops short. “I’ll still pay” Peter states baldly

“What? If you think I’m –“ He’s cut off as Peter grabs him and kisses him thoroughly, possessively.

He’s never been kissed, at least not like this. Peter’s lips crash into his, firm and demanding, and he can feel his tongue running over the seam of his lips, seeking access. Stiles opens his mouth a little, and suddenly  feels Peter’s tongue in his mouth, and he tastes of mint and something spicy, possibly cloves. He smells amazing, Stiles realises dimly. Sandalwood and pine and a deeper, more earthy scent. It’s sexy as hell.

Peter pulls back and breathes into his ear “I wasn’t joking with my offer, Stiles. I’ll teach you everything you need to know, and more besides, if you’ll let me.”

Stiles doesn’t move, can’t move. He’s breathless from the kiss, and his hands are somehow around Peter’s neck with no memory of him putting them there. Stiles is mesmerized by the muscles in Peter’s neck, by the huff of his soft breath against his ear, by the smell of his cologne. His hands have moved from Peter’s neck to his shoulders, caressing and stroking the wall of muscle that they find there. Apparently his hands are just going to do whatever the hell they want now.

Peter kisses him again, softer this time, and draws him out of his woolgathering. “Stiles. Do you want this, with me?”

His hand reaches out and runs hesitantly over Peter’s bicep, where the edge of his t shirt is straining over the muscle. He shivers at the feel of the hot flesh beneath his fingers. And he’s right there, and Stiles thinks he may never get a chance like this again, and he’s always had a thing for Peter, so he leans in just far enough that their lips brush together again softly, in the briefest of kisses, before pulling back.

“God, yes.”

Peter leans in close, grinning wolfishly, and breathes out “Excellent. I’ve always thought you were remarkable, you know, and it would be my genuine pleasure to make your first time unforgettable.“

Stiles pulls back for a moment then, and swears. “Dammit. I’m going to have to keep working at that shitty coffee shop, aren’t I, because I sure as hell can’t take your money now.” His hands have started sliding down Peter’s back, caressing the muscles.

“Maybe this isn’t the career for you” Peter agrees.

 “How did you know it was me anyway”?” Stiles asks, even as his lips start to leave tiny kisses up the column of Peter’s neck, and wow, apparently his hands aren’t the only part of him that are out of control.

Stiles can hear the smirk in Peter’s voice when he tells him “I’ve seen you shirtless often enough to recognize that body, sweetheart. I’ve thought a lot about it, over the years.”

“You’re really into me, huh?”

“You have no idea” Peter croons.

Stiles pulls back at that, and eyes Peter curiously. “What if there’d been someone else who outbid you?”

“Stiles, nobody would have outbid me. I would have made sure of it. There isn’t anybody out there worthy of you.”

Stiles snorts at that. Peter arches an elegant brow. “You underestimate yourself, Stiles” he murmurs. “Your body is crying out to be taken apart, and I’m happy to oblige”.

He starts to walk Stiles backwards over to the bed, pushing him onto his back and crawling up the length of his body, whispering “I can see it’s going to take me a long time to teach you everything you need to know. Possibly all night.”

Stiles props himself up on his elbows as Peter approaches, watching him. Finally he throws himself backwards and sighs, “Fine, but it’s gonna cost you.”

Peter stills, saying “Really? What will it cost me exactly?”

Stiles grins. “Breakfast.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter starts to teach Stiles everything he knows. Stiles is an eager pupil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Seifer. welcome home, darling, glad you're safe.

 

After Peter backs Stiles onto the bed, and the price for their night of passion has been successfully negotiated,  Peter pulls his t shirt over his head and drops it carelessly on the floor. Stiles drinks in the sight, sighing. “So, what would you like to do first?’ Peter asks, stretching his arms over his head in a provocative gesture that shows off his rippling chest, arm and shoulder muscles.

Stiles licks his lips. “Honestly, I want to touch all that, and then I want you to do whatever the hell you want” he states. He’s nearly convincing, but Peter picks up on the note of nervousness in his voice.

He leans over and picks his shirt up, putting it back on again. “You didn’t listen to a word I said, did you? You can’t just say _do whatever you want_ , or someone will” Peter sighs, as he sits on the edge of the bed.

Stiles looks mildy put out at losing the view, and pouts. “I thought that was if I was going to be working” he protests. “With strangers. But it’s you, so I figured you could do what you want, and I’ll probably like it.”

“Whatever I want? What if I want to tie you up and whip you, or put a cock ring on you so you can’t come, or fuck you with no prep?”

Stiles swallows nervously. “OK, maybe not those things” he concedes. “Let me rephrase that. I want you to do whatever you think I’ll enjoy. What we’ll enjoy” he amends.

“Better” says Peter, smiling, and removes his shirt again.

He hesitates just for a moment when Stiles says “…um.” He's blushing a little as he continues “…the condom thing.”

Peter waits patiently, even though he thinks he knows what’s coming.

“I’m  clean, and Weres can’t get anything, so I was thinking we could….maybe …not? Since it’s my first time?” Stiles asks  hopefully.

As if Peter’s ever going to say no to the chance to get inside Stiles bare. “Let’s not,“ he agrees, his eyes alight with excitement at the thought.

He lays down next to Sties, draws him into his arms, and kisses him softly. And then he does it again and again, until Stiles is relaxed in his arms, and kissing him back eagerly. His hands have started travelling over Peter’s body, and his hands slip around and grab his denim clad ass. Peter hums softly, and pulls away from the kiss a little.  

“Tell me Stiles, do you feel we might be….overdressed?” he purrs out.

“So, so overdressed’ Stiles replies, flailing awkwardly as he struggles to sit up and remove his shirt without falling off the bed. He slides halfway off before Peter catches him. Peter smirks at him a little, gently helps him remove the rest of his clothing, and then strips out of his jeans.

Stiles gets his first look at Peter’s cock, and he’s torn between thinking that twenty grand isn’t enough to get that thing up his ass, and that he should be the one paying Peter, because damn. Peter knows exactly how he looks, and he stands next to the bed for a moment letting Stiles look his fill, before climbing back on the bed, and saying “ Stiles darling, your photo didn’t do you justice”. He eyes the broad, pale shoulders in front of him, the delicate collar bones that just beg to be nibbled, the rosy nipples, and the lean, muscled stomach.

Stiles blushes, and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Now now, none of that “ Peter scolds. “You’re gorgeous, and I’ve hired you for the night, and that means I get to look at you all I want.”

And he does. He spreads Stiles out naked on his back, and kisses and licks up and down his body, rubbing his fingertips gently over him, fingers tracing over his rapidly swelling cock. His fingertips slide up the shaft, whisper soft, teasing. Stiles whimpers.

Peter grins, and continues to trace one fingertip over his cock, before working his way down to his balls, rolling them gently in his hand. Stiles is pressing himself into Peter’s hand, writhing in an attempt to get more contact. Peter  grins. “Enjoying that, sweetheart?“

“Uh huh” Stiles nods vigorously. This really is all new to him – it’s a sad fact of life that nobody’s ever brave enough to fool around with the sheriffs’ kid, and while he was at college, he simply hasn’t had the time or energy to pursue any kind of relationship.

“Well if you like that, you’ll love this’ Peter tells him, and leans down and licks his cock firmly, dragging the flat of his tongue along. Stiles hisses and his hips buck into the air. Peter grabs hold of them and pins him down, before taking him in his mouth fully, and Stiles thinks he might die, either from embarrassment or sheer pleasure, he’s not sure which. Peter’s naturally gifted when it comes to blow jobs.

He has no gag reflex, and he genuinely enjoys a thick cock in his mouth, so he savors the weight and taste of Stiles as he moves his head up and down, slowly at first, and then faster, listening to Stiles make little choked off sounds. He can feel him throbbing on his tongue, and he knows it won’t take him long to bring the younger man to orgasm. He pulls off just long enough to ask “Are you OK with this?”

Stiles is panting, saying “So, so OK, fuck Peter”.

“Oh, we will, soon,” Peter tells him, and goes back to what he was doing. Stiles thinks he’s definitely going to die.

Death by blowjob.

Stiles’ disobedient hands have found their way into Peter’s hair, and his fingers have woven their way into the now tangled mess. He’s moaning and saying “Gonna…gonna...Peter…” and tugging his hair to warn him, as he feels himself about to come. Peter’s response is to suck harder, and to hum a little. Stiles dies the little death then, spurting down Peter’s throat while his hips buck and twitch.

Peter sucks him gently through it, and then licks him clean, before releasing his softened cock onto his belly and looking like the cat that got the cream. He still has a little cream on the corner of his mouth, actually. Stiles is breathing heavily, eyes closed. Peter lets him rest for a few minutes, spending the time tracing his hands over the moles on his body, running his fingers over his chest, and enjoying the sight and feel of the younger man’s body.

Stiles is enjoying it as well apparently, because it’s not long before he starts touching Peter back, pulling him closer. “That was amazing” he sighs.

Peter presses Stiles down into the mattress and covers his body with his own, before whispering in his ear “baby boy, we’ve barely started”.

“Nooo, don’t call me that” Stiles protests, blushing.

“No?”

“ _No_. It's weird. My Mom called me that.”

Peter shrugs, before saying “It’s good to know you’re able to say no to things you don’t like, at least” and kissing Stiles firmly as a reward. Stiles melts into the kiss. He’s already relaxed from his orgasm, and he suspects that if all they’re going to do is make out, he’s in danger of going to sleep before they get to the main event.

He confesses as much to Peter, saying “I may need a nap.”

And Peter? Peter simply rolls them so that he’s the big spoon, and tells Stiles “Be my guest,” as if he isn’t sporting a massive erection and it isn’t pressing against Stiles’ ass, a promise of things to come. With the throbbing cock pressed against him, all thoughts of sleep go right out the window. Stiles finds himself pushing back instinctively, rocking his hips. After a minute or two, Peter puts a hand on his hip, stilling him and saying “If you keep that up, I may have to ravage you sooner rather than later.”

Stiles presses back once more, and replies “I may have to let you.”

* * *

 

Stiles was wrong.

He’d thought the blowjob was going to kill him, but that was before he’d experienced Peter’s fingers in his ass, stretching and twisting, hitting that spot inside that makes him see stars, sliding in and out steadily and driving him mad with the need for more. He’s on all fours, and Peter’s been playing with his ass for a good half an hour, first licking and teasing with his tongue, then rubbing the soft hair of his goatee over his hole and making him quiver, and finally sliding one delicate finger inside.

He’s up to three fingers now, and it isn’t enough. ‘Please, Peter” he begs, writhing under the touch.

‘Sure you’re ready for more, Stiles?” Peter checks in.

“Uh huh” is the best he can manage. A fourth finger is added, and OK, that’s a stretch. Stiles breathes deeply, in through the nose, out through the mouth, slowly - once, twice, three times, and tries to relax where his body has tensed up against the intrusion. Peter’s other hand is rested on the small of his back, soothing and stroking, and he concentrates on the feel of it, and the soft tones of Peter’s voice as he talks him through it.

“A little more, almost there, doing so well for me sweetheart, want you nice and stretched, want you ready for when I fill you,” he croons, and god he has a sexy voice, thinks Stiles, and he relaxes a little further as he listens to the husky tones, gently whispering promises of pleasure to him.

Finally, the burn eases, and all four fingers are moving smoothly in and out. Peter can feel the moment Stiles’ body truly relaxes and he starts to enjoy it once more, and he spends a little extra time making sure to rub across his prostate.  Stiles is grinding back into his hand now, making needy sounds. Peter slowly withdraws his hand, and kneels behind Stiles, and his breath is hot against his skin as he murmurs “Ready? Going to take this slow, just breathe.”

And he pushes in. Stiles lets out a little gasp, and Peter stills.

“OK?”

Stiles nods, breathing deeply. He wants this, it’s just….a lot. Peter continues to press forward, slowly, steadily, alert for any signs of distress, but Stiles shows no indication of wanting him to stop, so he keeps going until he’s as far in as he can be, and stills. “Take your time sweetheart, and let me know when you’re ready” he says steadily, even though Stiles feels so damned good around him, tight and throbbing and wet with lube, and what he really wants to do is fuck him into next week.

“Mmhmm” is the only reply he gets.

It’s not long before Stiles presses back the tiniest fraction, saying “I’m good.”

Peter breathes a sigh of relief, and starts off with a slow, gentle pace. He looks down and can see that Stile’s rim is stretched tight around his cock, and he closes his eyes against the sight, because if he keeps looking he’s liable to lose control and wreck the boy’s ass, and he doesn’t want that, not this first time. Maybe another time.

 He slides steadily in and out, and keeps his eyes closed, and listens to the breathy half cries Stiles makes every time he bottoms out, tiny groans of pleasure. He leans forwards further over his back, and reaches a hand around to find his erection, and begins to stroke Stiles firmly. “Ah, yeah” Stiles breathes out, and his cock, which had been at half mast, plumps up fully under the stimulation.

Peter adjusts the angle of his hips slightly so that he manages to aim for Stiles’ prostate, and he hears the sharp intake of breath when he hits his target. ‘More?” he asks the young man, hoping like hell the answer’s yes.

“Uh huh” More nodding from Stiles, who by this point is past speaking. His ass feels stretched to its limits, and Peter’s hand is strong and sure on his cock, and he doesn’t quite know what to do with the myriad of sensations.

He loves it. Peter takes him at his word and increases the speed of his thrusts, and puts a little more force behind them. Stiles cries change from tiny, breathy sounds to a series of steady grunts that are fucked out of him. Peter’s making sounds of his own, low hums and whispered words of pleasure, “so good for me Stiles, taking it all, so damned tight…”

And his voice does things to Stiles,always has, he freely admits it, and it’s enough to push him over the edge into orgasm, one that’s startling in both it’s suddenness and intensity. He shoots his load onto the motel bedsheets and Peter’s hand, and draws a deep, shuddering breath. Peter feels his ass clench around him, and the added tightness feels heavenly. He tries to hold back, but he can’t, and he forces himself deeper into Stiles as he slams into him and chases his own release.

His last few thrusts are bone jarringly hard, and he distantly hears Stiles whimper as he drives home one final time before his climax overtakes him. He stills, panting, eyes closed, lost in the sensation as his cock pumps out ropes of hot liquid. He comes back to himself a little when he feels Stiles start to squirm beneath him.

He looks down to see that his partner is a wreck. He has his head turned to one side, and he looks almost shell shocked, and he’s panting and flushed. “ _Well fucked_ ” is the phrase that springs to mind.

Peter eases slowly out of him, mindful of the fact that Stiles is probably sensitive. Stiles hisses between his teeth, confirming his suspicions. “Are you feeling all right, sweetheart?” Peter asks, concerned. “I wasn’t too rough at the end?”

Stiles snickers.“You were rough on _my_ end."

Peter snorts at that, and rolling onto his side, he pulls Stiles with him, so that they’re lying spooned together, in an echo of their earlier position. Stiles winces a little at the jostling, but waves off Peter’s  offer to take any pain.

“It’s fine, just a little tender.” He turns his head so he can see Peter’s face, and tells him “That was definitely worth the cost of breakfast.”

“I agree” Peter hums. ‘Where am I taking you?”

Stiles stretches and sighs, saying “No, dumbass, I’m buying.”

* * *

 

Stiles doesn’t buy Peter breakfast. Peter doesn’t buy Stiles breakfast.

They skip breakfast altogether, because Stiles is still passed out from the night before.

Well. Night before…….early hours of the morning…….technicalities, really. Once he’d had a nap and a shower, Stiles had taken Peter up on his offer to teach him everything he knows. Peter, it turns out, knows a hell of a lot. They haven’t covered even half of what Stiles wants to try. They’ve given it a damned good go, though

Peter‘s feeling slightly smug as he rings the office of the motel and books for another night, because it seems they aren’t going to be checking out any time soon. After all, Stiles still has to try topping.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter was a man who believed in paying for decent service.  
> If his taps leaked, he called a plumber, happy to pay for his professional expertise.  
> When it came to sex, he did exactly the same.

The previous night, before starting anything, Peter had insisted that Stiles text his Dad and Scott to let them know he was safe, because, as he said “Your father deserves the courtesy, and Scott’s a damned worrier.”

So Stiles had texted them both, saying “ _On a date. Going well. Don’t wait up_ ” with a winking face.

He’d received a thumbs up from Scott, and a message from his Dad saying _Remember, safe, sane, consensual_.

So Peter feels no need to wake the boy as he slumbers on late into the next morning.

He watches him sleep, and wonders what the hell he’s gotten himself into.

 

* * *

 

He’d  been idly looking through a  few of his favored websites in an effort to find some company for the evening.

He had no patience for the charade of going out to a bar and hoping someone caught his eye, and then pretending to be interested in them, all for the sake of a quick fuck.

He much preferred for all parties to know what was involved up front.

Peter was a man who believed in paying for decent service.

If his taps leaked, he called a plumber, happy to pay for his professional expertise.

When it came to sex, he did exactly the same.

Besides, he’d slept with the only three decent men in Beacon Hills years ago.

 

When he’d come across Stiles’ ad, of course he’d recognized the boy, and his initial reaction had been amusement.

But then he’d read the content, and shaken his head.

Stiles was going to end up the victim of a gangbang or dead in a ditch.

He’d advertised himself as a virgin male, and set no limits on what he would do.

Fuck.

Peter had rolled his eyes, but decided that on balance, saving the sheriff’s son from getting killed could only work in his favor in the long run.

Besides, he’d always appreciated a pretty face.

He could put in a bid or two, save Stiles from himself, and if the boy insisted on working the streets, at least educate him so that he stayed safe.

And he’d make sure that he had a good first time, of course.

Because honestly, if he was going to follow this as career path, he might find that the good times were few and far between.

Only it turned out that Stiles wasn’t planning on being a sex worker , and he was as sharp tongued and quick witted and attractive as Peter remembered, and the next thing he knew, Peter was offering to pay, and blocking the door, and kissing him, and offering him the night of his life.

And then the kid wouldn’t even take his money, so what the hell does that make this?

It’s been a long time since Peter slept with anyone without there being cash involved, and he’s damned if he knows what the protocol is now.

He sighs, and goes back to looking at the sleeping boy. He’s look so very enticing, all stretched out naked, and Peter feels his cock stirring at the sight.

He decides to worry about the details later, and take advantage of the here and now. After all, they’re still booked in for another night.

It’s no effort at all to roll the boy onto his side and slide in behind him, to coax him to hardness even as he’s still sleeping, and to slot his hard cock between his cheeks and start grinding lazily. He figures Stiles will wake if he keeps this up long enough, and he can introduce him to the concept of a Morning Glory.

Stiles does indeed wake, and he’s very open to the idea of a dawnbreaker, open enough that Peter can still slide into him with barely any prep.

It’s slow and lazy, unlike the night before, and Peter justifies it to himself as showing the Stiles new things, and refuses to think about the fact that he finds him near irresistible, because he knows Stiles will be going back to college in a few weeks, and he really shouldn’t take this any further than a one night stand, because that way madness lies.

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles lies in bed, listening to Peter shower, and tries to come to terms with the fact that he just lost his virginity to the subject of his teenage fantasies.

This was not what he had planned at all.

It was supposed to be anonymous sex with a stranger, and it was supposed to fund his next semester, but it looks like  that plan’s all gone to hell and he’s as broke as before.

He can’t even find it in himself to mind, because damn.

Peter Hale is sex on legs.

Peter was everything he’d thought he would be. Passionate, considerate, skilled in bed, a perfect first time.

And second time, actually.

And to be woken this morning with the suggestion of more? Yes please.

The last time had been slow and tender, and Stiles was secretly glad, because first thing after waking up he’d also been a little slow, a little tender.

But he lies in bed now, sated and happy, and he wonders if they can do this again.

In a no strings attached kind of way, obviously, because he goes back to college soon, but in the meantime…..

He must doze again, because the next thing he knows Peter is shaking him gently, and it occurs to him that a) they must be well past checkout time and   b) he’s starving.

 

He sits up quickly in bed, wincing a little at the unfamiliar ache in his ass, and looks for a clock.

He doesn’t find one, just Peter wrapped in a bathrobe, and a stack of pizzas four high.

As if he knows exactly what he’s thinking, Peter tells him “relax, I’m booked for another night. I only woke you because the food’s here.”

Stiles looks at the massive amount of pizza that Peter’s ordered, turns to him seriously, and tells him “Peter Hale, you are a god among men.”

“Obviously” Peter agrees.

Stiles snorts.

“And so modest” he adds.

“You know what they say about false modesty” Peter shrugs.

“That false modesty is better than none?” Stiles shoots back.

Peter arches a brow.

Oh, the boy has bite.

“False modesty can be worse than arrogance” he quotes, challenging.

Stiles stares at him for a minute, before stating “Fuck it, I’m too hungry for this” and attacking the pizza.

Peter smirks.

He’d thought it might be awkward, that Stiles might have regrets, but it seems his only regret is sleeping through breakfast, if the speed with which he’s demolishing the meal is any indication.

Peter gets himself something to eat as well, and they share the pizzas in easy silence.

It’s only as they’re finishing that Stiles seems to get nervous.

“So, um….do you want me to go now, or …” he trails off.

“If you want to leave, that’s fine, but if you wanted to stay, we could continue your……. education” Peter offers.

Stiles hesitates.

“I don’t think my ass can take any more educating today” he states ruefully.

Peter grins wickedly, saying “ _Your_ ass wasn’t actually part of my plans, Stiles.”

Stiles’ eyes widen at the implication.

“I did say I’d teach you everything. Do you want to know what it’s like to top?”

Stiles is lost for words.

Does he?

He takes a minute to think about it seriously, but he’s distracted by the sight of Peter.

Not Peter doing anything particularly, just the sight of him.

“Do you often bottom?” he asks, curious.

“Often and eagerly” he replies. “I’m very versatile.”

“And there’s that shy retiring nature again” Stiles quips.

Peter shrugs.

“I know what I like in the bedroom. And if you’re smart, you’ll take the chance to find out too. It would be a shame if you didn’t take the opportunity when it presents itself, but it’s up to you” he says, as though he’s not itching to feel Stiles’ dick up his ass.

When he puts it like that, Stiles thinks he’d be a fool not to at least try it.

“Let’s do this” he declares.

 

* * *

 

 

“Jesus fuck!” Stiles pants out, collapsing bonelessly on top of Peter’s spreadeagled body.

His cock’s still twitching after one of the most intense orgasms he’s ever experienced, and he can feel the wetness of Peter’s own release between them.

It takes a moment for his head to stop spinning, but when he pushes back up on his elbows and opens his eyes, he can see an a blissed out expression on Peter’s face, which is….unexpected.

“Was that OK?” he asks, hesitantly.

Peter looks at him with a raised eyebrow.

“You have no clue, do you Stiles?”

Stiles bites his lip.

“Was it bad? ”

“Stiles, it was sensational” Peter tells him, smiling contentedly.

Stiles lets out a tiny sigh of relief.

“I’d say you’re a natural, but I think it’s probably because you have an exceptional teacher.”

Stiles snorts. “I’ve always been a fast learner”

“How was it for you?” Peter asks then, smirking, because he knows damned well Stiles loved it.

“I thought I was going to blow the minute I got inside you, it felt so damned good” Stiles admits.

“Well I’m very glad you managed to control yourself. It was immensely satisfying. Now, if you could just…get off me …”

Stiles pulls out carefully, and Peter hisses.

He grimaces as he shifts around the bed, and Stiles looks slightly guilty.

“Sorry” he says.

Peter waves him off, saying ‘Don’t apologize – I knew what I was offering. “

He says “I just underestimated how much _you_ were offering, exactly.”

“And how vigorously you’d use it” he adds wryly.

 “Sorry, enthusiasm of youth?” Stiles offers weakly.

“Stiles,I enjoyed it ” Peter tells him firmly. “Stop apologizing”.

Stiles relaxes a little.

“So…..what now?” he asks.

Peter hums.

“Shower” he says decisively.

“And after, if you’re interested, I can teach you how to blow me. We haven’t done that yet.”

Stiles looks at Peter’s naked body, and licks his lips.

“Yeah. Yeah, we can do that” he breathes.

 

* * *

 

After another night of exploring each other, some more experimenting, and some much needed sleep, Peter admits to himself that he can’t stretch this weekend out any longer.

They prepare to check out, and Stiles seems as reluctant to leave as he is.

They linger outside the motel together awkwardly.

Stiles turns to face him.

“That was amazing. Thank you” he tells Peter sincerely.

“Oh trust me, it was my pleasure” Peter purrs.

Stiles fidgets, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Peter waits patiently for whatever’s coming next.

“So” he starts. “I’m home for a while. We could do this again, maybe?”

“We could do this again” Peter agrees.

And then he looks, really looks at Stiles’ old jeep, and puts a hand up.

“On one condition.”

Stiles looks at him questioningly.

“For the love of God, let me replace those tires for you. They’re shot, and I can see the canvas coming through on that one. It’s not safe.”

Stiles looks startled.

“Well yeah, I was going to fix them with the money from  y’know….this.”

“All the more reason to let me do it then” Peter tells him, and the next thing he has his phone out, and he makes a quick call, and when he hangs up he tells Stiles “Take it to the garage on Main, they’re expecting you today.”

Stiles protests, saying “You can’t just buy me tires, Peter. That’s …its’….people don’t just buy people tires!”

He gesturing wildly as he speaks, and Peter just smirks at his frantic protests.

“Consider it a performance bonus” he says, grinning smugly.

And then he takes Stile’s phone and programs his number in, and sends himself a text.

He labels Stile’s contact as _Clever Boy_.

 

* * *

 

He knows when Stiles has followed his instructions, because he gets a text saying

**_What did you do? They won’t give my jeep back. They say they’re giving it a full service as well as new tires._ **

Peter texts back

**I’m keeping you safe.**

He can see the dots where Stiles is typing, sees them appear, disappear, reappear.

After a long time, a text comes through.

**_I’m only letting you do this because my Dad’s been on my case about it._ **

Peter smirks.

**_And thank you._ **

**You’re welcome, Stiles**  he types back.

After a moment’s consideration, he adds

**If it would make you feel better, consider it a down payment on our next lesson. I still have a lot to teach you.**

Stiles snorts when he sees the message.

And the following one, which reads

**I’m free whenever you’d like**

And then he spends the next three days thinking about what another session with Peter might entail, and thinking about all the things they haven’t tried yet, and finally he caves and sends off a quick text.

**_Free tonight?_ **

The reply comes through almost instantly

**I am now. Come over at six.**

Followed by Peter’s home address.

 

Stiles gets there at 5.30

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter gets to be in charge. For a whole day.

His dad, surprisingly, doesn’t seem that fazed.

When Stiles goes home after that first weekend, his father simply folds his arms and says “Peter Hale, huh? Well, you’re an adult now, you make your own choices.”

He pauses for a minute before saying “Truthfully, there are a lot worse than him you could be dating. He might be older, but damn, that man’s pretty.”

Stiles gapes at him, before stammering “how…”

His Dad shrugs.

“Jeep’s been parked at that motel since Friday night. So has Peter’s car. Didn’t take a genius, kiddo.”

He fixes Stiles with a keen look, asking “He treat you right, son? Because if he didn’t…..”

Stiles thinks about it for a moment before truthfully saying “Yeah. Yeah, he really did” and smiling to himself.

The look on his face must reassure his Dad, because his expression softens, and he tells him “If this is going to be a thing, just let me know if you’re staying out, OK?”

“I don’t think it’s going to be a thing” Stiles assures him.

“Well, you never know” his dad shrugs.

It’s not going to be a thing, though.

Stiles keeps telling himself that, right until he messages Peter that first time.

He even tells himself that the second time.

But after that he has to admit it.

Once is chance. Twice is coincidence.

Third time is a pattern.

But honestly?

He doesn’t really care. He’s doing things he never thought he’d get to do, and he’s doing them with someone he’s always had a thing for.

If he’s going to spend his summer having casual sex, he’s glad he’s doing it with Peter, because the man has serious skills.

And it is casual.

Because he’s going back to school in two weeks.

Probably.

* * *

 

This is how they play the game.

Stiles texts Peter, saying

  **Free tonight?**

Peter gives him a time.

Stiles is always early, and always eager.

They…play. They choose something to try, and then they see if Stiles likes it.

Peter insists that they only play one game each time, saying that if they overdo it, Stiles will end up confused.

Stiles doesn’t mind, because it means they get to have a lot more ~~dates~~ hookups.

He promises Peter to be completely open about what he likes or doesn’t, and as a reward afterwards, they do the things he really, really, likes.

Like fucking Peter.

Or getting fucked by Peter – both are  so very, very good.

Sometimes, Peter has a suggestion.

Stiles is constantly surprised by the things he comes up with, and what turns him on.

When Peter gets it right, like the time with the nipple clamps and the ice, it’s sensational.

 

Sometimes, like today, it’s not.

 

Stiles already regrets letting Peter choose today’s game.

He’s agreed to try, but he’s barely coping as he lies spreadeagled on the bed, blindfolded, hands tied above his head with silky soft ropes.

He whimpers a little, but Peter shushes him, saying “Just relax into it.”

He squirms as a tongue suddenly trails over his chest and down towards his navel. Then he feels it trailing down towards his cock, which is lying flaccid between his legs.

“No, don’t like it” he pants out, as Peter holds him down.

“Are you sure?” Peter purrs out.

And he licks the head of Stiles’ cock.

And the shock of it’s too much, and he can’t get away, and he blurts out “Red!”

The tongue is gone, and Peter’s right there, taking off his blindfold and saying “Breathe, sweetheart.Are you OK?“

Stiles nods weakly, and pulls against the ropes a little.

“Off?” he asks.

Peter nods, and with one flick of his claws the ropes  are sliced off and he has his hands back.

He sits up on the bed, sighing.

“So, no to blindfolds, and ropes I guess”

Peter hums, and sounds a little disappointed.

And there’s a tiny part of Stiles that wants to lie, and suggest they try it again.

But the ground rules they’ve set are total honesty, so he can’t lie.

“I hate it. I can’t cope with not being able to see, or escape.”

Peter tells him it’s fine, at least they can cross that off their list, and then he leans over and kisses him firmly, holding him close, rewarding him for his honest answer, as always.

They move on to more familiar territory, and before long Stiles is wrecked in all the best ways, panting as Peter holds him down and drives into him hard and fast.

And afterwards, as always, Peter feeds him dinner.

And after that, as always, they both pretend that time’s got away on them, and Peter casually says “you might as well stay.”

And as always, Stiles agrees with a shrug, like he isn’t addicted to having Peter wrapped around him as he sleeps.

They’re not dating, but it’s not quite a casual thing, either.

He asks Peter once, hesitantly, “What are we doing. Peter?”

Peter buries his nose in the crook of Stiles neck where’s he’s wrapped around him, and replies “I’m keeping my promise. Haven’t even come close to teaching you everything yet.”

He says it lightly, but he pulls Stiles closer as he speaks.

* * *

 

 

Peter doesn’t know how this has happened, but for some reason, Stiles keeps coming back to his bed.

Not that he minds, it’s just that he didn’t really think he’d be so lucky.

Once, maybe even twice, he could understand.

But Stiles keeps coming back for more, and he wants to learn, and he’s such an eager pupil when they’re in bed, who can resist that combination of innocence and wantonness?

Not Peter, certainly. Not that he’s actually trying.

He’d almost feel bad, like he’s taking advantage of the boy, but Stiles seems to be happy with their arrangement, and so he goes with it.

Stiles is gorgeous in bed.

He has no filter, and he doesn’t try and hold in the noises he makes, and he’s shameless in his enjoyment of the things Peter shows him. It’s intoxicating.

And out of bed?

He has a sharp mind, and a sharper tongue, and he can match wits with Peter no problem at all.

And damned if that Peter doesn’t find that just as much of a turn on.

Peter wants to reward him, and shower him with gifts and cash, because that’s normally how this works. Over the years he’s had one or two younger lovers that he’s had an…arrangement with, where they were exclusively his, and in return he took care of them.

It worked well at the time, and it’s something he’d be willing to do again, if it wasn’t for the inconvenient fact that Stiles is leaving in a fortnight, and also that he refuses to take Peter’s money.

That second time together, Peter had slipped a couple of hundred dollars into Stiles’ wallet while he was in the shower. No need to be obvious about it, after all.

Within half an hour Stiles had been back on his doorstep, pushing the notes back at him, saying “honestly, dude, just don’t.”

 But Peter’s always known that there’s more than one way to skin a cat.

Peter looks at the sleeping form next to him and grins.

Stiles has no idea what’s in store for him today.

* * *

 

 

Peter leans over and shakes him gently awake.

“Up” he tells him. “We have places to be.”

Stiles looks at him, still half asleep.

“Why?” he whines, snuggling back down.

“Because it’s my day, remember? You promised.”

Stiles does remember, and he did promise, although he’ll argue it was under duress.

 

Stiles is a _big_ fan of orgasm denial, they’ve discovered.

And so, the night before, Peter had teased him until he was begging for release, his cock dripping and almost purple as Peter held the base, stopping him from coming, as he licked all around the shaft.

“Please, Peter, please! I’ll do anything!” he’d cried out.

Peter had paused then.

“Anything, Stiles? That’s a dangerous promise to make.”

“I don’t care, just… please” Stiles had sobbed out.

“If I let you come, then tomorrow, you’re mine, all day. You do exactly as I say, and we do what I want, no argument.” Peter clarified.

“Yes! Oh god, yes! All day!” Stiles had promised wildly.

And Peter had released his cock, and swallowed him down, and in under a minute he was convulsing wildly as he came.

And now, Peter’s going to take full advantage of that rash promise.

 

* * *

 

 

After they’re up and dressed, Peter leads the way out to the car.

Stiles asks him hesitantly “This isn’t going to be public sex is it? Because I know I said anything, but I really don’t want my dad getting called on us.”

“Nope” Peter tells him smugly, as they park at the mall.

“Today, I just want you to be obedient, and not fight me” is all he’ll tell him.

Stile shrugs.

It’s not a total surprise when they go to the adult store. He knows Peter has been talking about introducing him to toys.

What is a shock is the sheer variety of things to choose from. Peter doesn’t seem fazed though, grabbing a basket and efficiently working his way along the displays, occasionally holding something up for Stiles’ approval before adding it to the basket.

Stiles says yes to everything because, well.

He chokes at the total when it’s all out through at the register, and starts to protest, but Peter holds his hand up and tells him “My day, remember?”

Stiles sags a little, but nods.

If Peter wants to spend money on sex toys, that’s his business.

They leave the store and load their purchases in the car and he goes to climb in, assuming they’re going to take their goodies home and play, but Peter puts a hand on his arm and shakes his head.

‘We’re not done yet. But I assume you don’t really want to carry all this around?” He gestures to the two bulging bags.

Stiles has to admit, he as a good point.

Next, Peter outs his hand out and demands “Phone.”

Stiles hands it over.

 “This is awful. The screen’s shot and you can hardly read it. You need something decent, so I know you’re getting my messages” Peter declares.

They head to the electronics store, and he proceeds to choose the newest model of Stiles’ current phone, and within minutes it’s bought and paid for and signed up to an unlimited call and data plan, with the bill in Peter’s name.

“Peter, that’s a shit ton of money every month” Stiles protests.

‘I want you available, and I want you to be able to call if you need anything” Peter tells him.

“Now stop arguing, Stiles. You promised remember? Whatever I want. And what I want is for you to have a phone that works.”

He’s not even wrong, Stiles thinks. His screen is cracked, the speakers don’t always work,  and he only gets about one call out of every three. It’s really only good for texting.

“Fine” he sighs.

Peter grins, and says “Excellent. Now, laptop.”

Stiles folds his arms then, saying “No.”

Peter looks at him coolly, and says “Remind me Stiles, did I or did I not hear you bitching last week because your battery’s shot, and you can’t unplug your current laptop, and you also can’t get replacement parts because they’re obsolete?”

“Maybe” Stiles mutters.

“And does it not occur to you that maybe I want to replace it so that I don’t have to listen to you whining about it when I could be spending that time balls deep in you, making you scream?”

“I don’t whine about it” Stiles protests, frantically looking round to see who’s heard Peter casually talking about fucking him in the middle of the electronics store.

“You certainly do, and it’s a mood killer, frankly” Peter tells him.

He can see that Stiles is nervous about having this conversation in public, and he uses it shamelessly to his advantage.

He moves in a little closer, and says in Stile’s ear “Last night, while my mouth was all over your dick, you promised me anything. Are you going to be difficult, or are you going let me have this, and be my good boy?”

And something about the way he says ‘good boy’ makes Stiles shiver.

“I thought you meant sex stuff, though” he protests, keeping his voice low.

Peter sighs, and leads him to the very back corner of the store, backs Stiles against the wall, and pulls him in for a filthy kiss. Then he leans in and speaks lowly in Stiles’ ear, knowing the effect his voice has.

“Trust me, having this much power over you is intensely arousing. I love seeing you all flustered and unable to protest, and even more, I love the thought of knowing that all day today, you’re going to be doing exactly as I say.”

And he kisses Stiles again, and rubs his hands over his ass and pulls him in close, and Stiles lets out a breathy whine.

The sound catches the attention of the saleswoman.

He hurriedly pulls back a little and tries to look innocent,  but he must not succeed, because she approaches with narrowed eyes.

‘Can I help you gentlemen with something?” she asks, and Peter turns to face her wearing his most charming smile, and says “my friend here needs a new laptop for college.”

She eyes Stiles in his flannel shirt and ratty jeans, and asks “Do we have a budget in mind?”

Peter says “No.”

Stiles says “nothing extravagant.”

The saleslady looks between them, confused.

Peter leans into Stiles, and whispers in his ear “Do not fight me on this. You will not win. Now _be good._ ”

And then he turns back to the lady and tells her “Surprise me. If you show me what you’ve got, I’ll make it worth your while, sweetheart” and he winks, and grins filthily.

The poor woman has to fan herself for a moment as the full force of Peter’s charms sweeps over her.

But she knows her stuff, and between flirting with Peter she takes them through the features of each product, and Peter flirts back as he sweet talks her into adding in all the extras for free, and before he knows it Stiles is the proud owner of a beast of a machine far above anything he’s ever dreamed of owning.

As they leave the store, Peter politely declines the phone number that’s offered to him.

Stiles tries not to think too hard about why he’s so pleased at that.

* * *

 

 

They stop for something to eat, and as they’re talking, Stiles manages to knock the soda he’s ordered into his lap.

 “Shit shit shit!” he hisses as the cool liquid hits his skin, soaking through his pants.

Peter sighs, and grabbing a handful of napkins, he starts to mop up the mess from the front of Stiles’ jeans.

If his hand happens to massage Stiles’ dick a little at the same time, well, nobody can see under the table.

“Dude! Really?” Stiles protests, batting his hands away.

Peter reluctantly stops what he’s doing, and Stiles breathes a sigh of relief.

“Dammit, we have to go home. These are sticking to me like nobody’s business” he grumbles.

“Oh I don’t think so, we were going to replace them anyway” Peter tells him smoothly.

Stiles’ head snaps up.

“Were we?”

His eyes narrow.

“Peter, are you planning to Pretty Woman me?”

“Definitely sweetheart.“ Peter purrs out.

“After all, I’m quite selfish, and you’re quite pretty. “

Stiles snorts. “Oh yeah, supermodel in the making “he says derisively.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Stiles. You have a gorgeous body, and I don’t like you hiding it from me.

So what I’m going to do next is take you, and dress you in clothes that fit you, and show off those lovely broad shoulders and your fine, fine ass.

And then I’m going to take you home, and peel everything off you again, and cover your body in bites, and then I’m going to fuck you till you can’t stand” Peter tells him.

“Any objections, or are you going to be good for me?”

And Stiles knows, because Peter has stamina that goes far beyond human, that if he agrees, he’ll spend hours impaled on Peter’s thick cock.

He whines a little at the thought, and swallowing thickly, says “No, no objections.”

* * *

 

Stiles always just thought that jeans were jeans.

But apparently not.

And apparently Peter’s going to make him try on every pair in the store until he finds ones with a flattering fit.

Peter’s a very hands on shopper.

He doesn’t want Stiles to just try them on, but he also insists he wants to ‘check the cut”.

Which is code for sneaking into the change room and sliding his hands into the back pockets, pulling Stiles towards him, kissing him and subtly grinding against him.

Stiles has to push him back out, because as he whispers frantically ”How can I try the damned things on if I can’t zip them up? Stop, Peter, you’re killing me!”

Peter grins a Machiavellian grin, but he leaves the change room.

When he finally finds a fit he approves of, he buys Stiles several pairs.

That’s just the start.

Who knew there were so many types of t shirt?

Peter makes him try them, and then walks around him humming, pulling at the collar, running his hands across his shoulders, accidentally brushing against his nipples as he flicks away imaginary lint. If there’s nobody watching, he slides a hand under the hem and up Stiles’ back, saying he’s checking the stretch.

Stiles ends up with about ten of the damned things in various colors, as well as shirts that aren’t plaid, and  well fitted jumpers and dress pants and dress shoes.

Somehow he ends up with new underwear as well -  the good stuff, not the Target ten pack he’s used to. He tries not to think too much about the fact that Peter’s guessed his size perfectly.

Through it all, he doesn’t even try to put up a fight, the phrase ‘good boy’ echoing treacherously in his mind.

It’s only clothes, after all.

He does try and draw the line when Peter starts looking at three piece suits.

“Oh come on, where the hell would I even wear that?” he protests.

“Stiles, what are you studying at college? “ Peter asks.

“Business” Stiles replies.

“So, assuming you carry on in that vein, is there not a chance you’ll need to go for, say, an interview? Or to a function? Or somewhere nice? I’d like it if you were prepared, that’s all”.

Stiles look at him, unconvinced.

“But that won’t be till next year at least” he points out.

Peter sighs.

“Fine. I want you in this suit because I’m selfish.”

He leans in close, his breath hot in Stile’s ear, and tells him “I want to see you dressed up in one of these suits, because I think you’ll look like a walking wet dream. I want to see you with every hair in place, tie done up nicely, pocket square showing, vest buttoned, shoes polished.”

And then, I want to push you up against a wall, and drag those dress pants down, and fuck you while you’re standing there still half dressed. And while I’m fucking you , I want to put a cock ring on you, and then when I’m finished, I want to lick you out until you’re all clean for me, and dress you again, and take you out to dinner while you can still feel the wetness of my tongue in your ass.”

Stiles exhales shakily, eyes closed.

And then Peter adds “And I won’t let you come until we get home.”

Stiles blurts out “We’d like to try the charcoal one, thanks, with the dark blue shirt.”

Peter grins as the salesman scurries away, blushing and pretending that he hasn’t heard the whole exchange.

Stiles turns to him then, muttering “That was a dirty trick. How am I meant to say no to that? I mean, it sounds amazing…” he trails off as a thought strikes him. 

“Wait, did you say you want to take me out to dinner?”

“Well, yes. If it means I get to see you in a suit” Peter replies, eyes sparkling.

“Only if you wear one too” Stiles challenges.

Peter smirks.

“So, that’s a yes then?”

 

* * *

 

 

By the time they drive home, Stiles is exhausted. He never knew that trying on clothes could be so tiring.

When they get back to Peter’s place and unload their purchases, he flops back on the bed with a sigh.

His mind’s racing a million miles an hour. Peter’s just spent a huge chunk of cash on him, and he wants to take him to dinner.

And Stiles wants to go.

And school starts in a week and a half, and he doesn’t want to go back.

The thing is, he’s struggling.

He’s struggling financially, but he’s also struggling because his classes are shit, and he doesn’t enjoy the subject he’s chosen, and it’s too late to change now.

His dad knows something’s up, keeps giving him long, searching looks, asking him if everything’s OK, but Stiles can’t tell him.

His Dad’s worked long and hard for him to be able to go to college, and he’s damned if he’ll throw it in his face by not finishing.

But he misses home, misses it like hell.

And now, he has another reason not to want to leave.

All he wanted was to earn some  money, and lose his virginity, and now he’s in some sort of weird not-relationship with Peter, and he’s discovering that as well as enjoying the physical side of their relationship, he’s starting to like the damned man.

Peter’s sharp, and he can keep up with Stiles, or Stiles can keep up with him, he’s not sure which.

And he’s so damned hot. Stiles still feels a thrill every time he’s allowed to touch him, unable to quite believe that he has access to a body like that.

And he’s generous, there’s no denying it.

Stiles isn’t sure how he feels about that, but he has to admit that nothing Peter’s done has been too far over the top – it’s all been stuff that Stiles actually needs, apart from the sex toys.

And somehow, Stiles trusts Peter more completely than he’s ever trusted anyone.

Peter’s never been anything but honest with him, and Stiles doesn’t think there’s a single other person in his life he can say that about – not his dad, not even Scott.

Peter’s completely open with him, and it’s both comforting and disturbing at the same time.

It’s making him _feel_ things for Peter, which he hadn’t expected at all.

He’s so fucked.

 

* * *

 

He’s drawn out of his woolgathering by the dip of the mattress as Peter joins him on the bed.

He pulls Stiles in for a kiss, and Stiles responds because Peter’s an amazing kisser, but it doesn’t go any further than that, surprisingly. Peter simply spoons up behind him and tells him “take a nap, sweetheart. You’ll need all your energy later.”

Stiles would sass him about how he didn’t need a nap to keep up with an old man, but he’s already dozing.

He quickly falls into a deep sleep, and dreams about blue eyes and a wicked smile.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter keeps the promise that he made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more for today, for MrAlmasy, who has returned from his travels.  
> Good to have you back, sweetheart.

When Stiles wakes, it’s to a hand softly running up and down his back.

He tilts his head back so Peter can nuzzle his neck, and hums happily.

It occurs to him that something that’s meant to be casual shouldn’t feel so domestic, but his brain is still fuzzy from sleep, so he doesn’t think too hard about it.

Besides, he’s distracted by the nibbles and licks and kisses that Peter is lavishing on him.

He moans softly, and Peter responds in kind.

Stiles can feel that Peter’s hard against him through his jeans, and he presses back instinctively.

Peter’s arms curl around him and pull him in a little tighter, and he whispers in his ear “You’re wearing too many clothes. I seem to remember promising to peel you out of them.”

And he rolls Stiles over onto his back, and slowly begins to flick the buttons of his new dress shirt open.

He undoes the top three buttons enough to expose Stiles’ collarbone, and then  starts to suck and nip along them,  leaving a row of tiny bruises.

Stiles squirms under the touch, but Peter has one hand on his chest holding him in place easily, and he carries on kissing and marking him as each new inch of flesh is exposed.

As he finally gets the shirt open all the way, Peter goes to town torturing his nipples in the best way, first suckling on each one until it’s plump and rosy, and then biting down lightly. He teases one with his mouth and the other with his hand, making Stiles buck his hips as the sensation goes straight to his dick.

He stays there playing until Stiles is begging him to stop, and both nubs are bruised and purple.

He grins smugly at Stiles then, and reminds him of his promise to mark him all over his body, before sucking a series of deep bruises into the tender flesh of his belly.

He undoes Stiles’ jeans then and slowly slides them off, taking his underwear at the same time.

Stiles is hard for him, and Peter brushes his fingers lightly up and down his shaft, making him shiver.

“You were so good for me today, doing everything I said, sweetheart. So as your reward, you get to come first, and I won’t even tease you” Peter breathes out, before taking Stiles in his mouth and swallowing him down like a pro.

Stiles makes a strangled noise as he feels the incredible heat of Peter’s mouth, and the sight of Peter deepthroating him is beyond arousing.

Peter applies the perfect amount of suction, and hums around him softly, as his head bobs up and down in a steady rhythm. Stiles starts to thrust up into his mouth, but Peter pulls off then, and the cool air against his cock causes Stiles to whine.

But he’s only pulled off so that he can rearrange them, and he pulls Stiles up into a sitting position on the side of the bed, moving him into position easily, and he drops to his knees in front of him, telling him “if you’re going to fuck my face, fuck it properly” before putting the younger man’s hand on the back his head and taking him in his mouth again.

That’s not an invitation Stiles is ever going to refuse, so he grabs Peter by the hair and pulls him forwards roughly, holding him in place for a second or two before easing him off slowly, and then slamming back into his mouth.

He can see the bulge in Peter’s throat where he’s all the way in, and he can feel the muscles working around his length, and it’s heavenly. He savors the sensation, and then starts fucking into Peter’s mouth in earnest. He sets up a solid pace, and Peter follows his lead without protest, and seeing him eagerly swallowing down his cock like that is as hot as hell.

It doesn’t take long before Stiles can feel the base of his balls as they draw up tight, and he starts to thrust in harder. Peter takes it all, doing things with his tongue that should be illegal, and it quickly sends Stiles over the edge. He comes in Peter’s mouth, and he swallows most of it, but some leaks out and dribbles down his face. He licks it up even as he grins at Stiles, taking in his flushed face and wrecked expression.

“And now, sweetheart, it’s your turn. Remember what I promised?”

Stiles swallows. He remembers.

Peter climbs up off his knees and drags Stiles bodily back onto the bed with him, kissing him roughly.

Stiles moans into Peter's mouth, because he’s discovered that while he hates being restrained, he loves being manhandled.

 He loves it a lot.

There’s something about the way that Peter can effortlessly lift his weight and arrange his limbs without so much as a by your leave that does things to him.

And Peter damned well knows it, which is why he’s currently roughly rolling him over onto his stomach and has one arm pulled up his back so that he’s kneeling, chest down against the bed, cheek pressed into the blankets, and unable to move.

And then Peter starts to tease his hole lightly with his fingertips, brushing around and over it, fingers still dry, just the tiniest of touches.

“Look how tight you are, Stiles. All closed up, I doubt I could even get a finger in there right now” he purrs out, pressing the tip of one finger gently against the pucker as if to prove his point.

Stiles’ breath hitches at the touch.

Peter leans over him and whispers in his ear “But we know how to fix that, don’t we? Get you all ready for my cock?”

And then he starts to lick gently around Stiles’ hole, lapping and kissing and making him wet enough that this time, when he presses the fingertip against him, it eases in, just barely, just the very tip.

Peter grins to himself as he hears the tiny whimper Stiles makes.

He presses in a little further, just to see Stiles squirm, and then withdraws his hand.

The whimper is slightly louder, this time.

“Ah ah ah” he scolds gently. “I haven’t finished marking you yet, remember?”

He leans forwards then and bites down deliberately into the meat of Stiles’ ass, earning a cry of pain.

He’d say he was sorry, but it would be a lie, especially when he sees how lovely the vivid red bitemark looks on Stiles’ pale skin.

But he does limit himself to sucking dark bruises into the backs of Stiles’ thighs after that.

Stiles is squirming beneath him as he adds row after row of marks on the back of his legs and around his ass, until he’s a veritable canvas of black and blue.

Finally satisfied, Peter pulls back, running his hands over the tender flesh. He sees that Stiles is hard again, and reaches underneath and gently strokes the soft flesh of his balls with his fingertips.

“Ready, sweetheart? Now I’m going to open you up nice and wide for me, and fuck you till you can’t walk”

“Promises, promises, yet  I’m still waiting” Stiles pants out.

And oh, Peter’s wolf side takes that for the challenge it is.

He wastes no time in grabbing the lube and drizzling it directly onto Stiles’ hole, the cool liquid making him yelp.

He presses in with two fingers straight away, making Stiles hiss. He pumps them in and out quickly, twisting and stretching as he does so, until he can feel the ring of muscles relaxing a little. He adds a third finger, grinning as he hears Stiles curse, saying “Jesus Peter, slow down!”

“Oh sorry, I thought you were in a hurry” he says innocently, thrusting his fingers in particularly hard.

“Asshole” Stiles mutters.

“Hmm, yes, and a lovely stretched one too” Peter replies, and then his fingers find Stiles’ prostate, and suddenly Stiles is twisting and whining, beneath him.

He rubs over the soft spot persistently, and only stops when Stiles begs him to stop, saying “please, I’m ready.”

Peter pulls his fingers out and looks at Stiles’ hole, stretched and soft and pink looking, and he gives into the temptation to press two thumbs inside and stretch it out wide, just to see how it looks.

It looks divine, and how can he resist a sight like that?

“OK sweetheart, I’ll give you what you need” he says, as he applies more lube to the head of his cock.

Stiles grunts as Peter pushes in, not as ready as he thought he was.

Peter can feel the pulse and pull of the muscles as Stiles adjusts to that first intrusion, and he revels in it. He presses in further, bottoming out quickly.

“Going to fuck you into the mattress, pretty boy” he pants breathlessly.

Stiles moans, and tries to brace himself.

Peter pulls back and slams home, and Stiles cries out with the shock of it. Peter’s big, and it burns, and he tries to pull away instinctively, but he can’t because Peter’s holding him down and picking up speed, and he can do nothing but take it.

It’s a surprise every single time, when Peter fucks him hard, how strong the wolf is.

Stiles pants into the blankets as Peter fucks him relentlessly, and the initial stretch and pull slowly turns into pleasure as his body stretches to accommodate Peter’s cock as it pistons in and out of him.

It’s a quick fuck, relatively speaking, with Peter coming after only a few minutes, panting into the nape of Stiles’ neck as he does so. Stiles groans at the feeling of Peter’s cock thickening up just before he comes, stretching him just that little bit further.

“Fuck, that feels good” he moans out, and reaches under himself to pull on his own erection.

“I’m glad you liked it, because we’re going to keep doing it until you beg me to stop.” Peter purrs in his ear.

He’s already starting to get hard again, because he’s been thinking about this all day, the very act of providing for Stiles awakening his wolf’s primal need to claim and breed his partner.

He rolls Stiles onto his back and pulls his legs up onto his shoulders, before thrusting back in carelessly, driven now by instinct and lust.

Stiles continues to stroke himself as Peter drives into him, the dual sensations of his hand and Peter’s cock making his eyes roll back in his head with pleasure.

As he starts to stroke himself faster, panting and whining, Peter speeds up, and he sets a brutal pace that’s almost too much.

Almost.

He fucks into Stiles hard and fast and relentless, and Stiles comes with a cry as he’s driven over the edge.

Peter keeps going though, harder and faster, until he slams in one last time with a growl.

Stiles lays beneath him, eyes glazed and expression blissed out.

Peter pulls out slowly, and Stiles sighs with relief.

“Thank god. I think you broke my ass” he mumbles.

Peter arranges their bodies so they’re facing, looks him in the eye and says “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you think we were finished?”

Stiles blinks at him.

“Whatever I want, all day remember? I intend to take full advantage of you” Peter reminds him smugly.

And then he rolls Stiles over and eats him out until he’s a writhing, panting wreck, and fucks him again.

* * *

 

 

In the end, Peter takes pity on him when he starts to sob.

He’s been fucked, sucked and fingered until he’s a breathless, shaking wreck, and he cries “Stop Peter, I’m begging you no more, please! “ even as Peter slides easily in and out of him from behind, his hole a sloppy fucked out mess.

Peter thrusts in once, twice more, and comes with a sigh.

“OK sweetheart” he says, nuzzling into Stiles’ neck and suckling a dark mark there.

Stiles sighs in relief when Peter pulls out, and rolls out of his grasp.

He bats Peter’s hands away when he tries to draw him close again.

He feels like he might die if anyone touches him, or burst into flames, or something.

He feels amazing.

Fragile, but amazing.

After lying still and quiet for long minutes, eyes closed, coming back to himself, Stiles opens his eyes to find Peter watching him, amused.

“Jesus, you weren’t kidding were you? About taking full advantage” he sighs out, still slightly out of it.

“I always keep my promises, Stiles” Peter tells him, still smiling.

Then he adds “Thank you. For trusting me today” he clarifies.

“Always trust you, Peter” Stiles tells him, eyes slipping closed.

And hearing that makes something flutter in his chest, because really, the list of people who trust him is depressingly short.

Stiles is out cold in minutes, and Peter watches him sleep, and tries to figure out exactly how he’s going to cope when Stiles goes back to school in ten days.

He debates whether it would be better to stop what they’re doing now,  to get out while he can, but looking at the sleeping figure next to him, he can’t bear the thought.

He went into this expecting to pay for a service, get a no strings attached night with a virgin, and somehow he’s ended up with a smart mouthed, sexy, eager lover in his bed most nights of the week, who trusts him, of all people.

And he suspects that he may be starting to have feelings, of all things.

Peter doesn’t do feelings.

Not until now, anyway.

He’s so fucked.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one with the suits, and the not-date

As the day for Stiles to leave and go back to college approaches, his Dad notices him getting more and more morose.

“Problem, son?” he finally asks.

“Nope” Stiles says.

“Just not looking forwards to the trip. And it’s been nice, being home. I’ll miss you.”

Noah snorts.

“Son, you’ve been out every second night with Peter. I don’t think it’s me you’re going to miss” he observes.

Stiles doesn’t have an answer for that.

His father continues “You know, if you were really homesick, you could transfer to somewhere closer. That’s doable, right?”

Stiles sighs.

“Maybe, but it would feel like I’d failed. I’m better off staying where I am. Better the devil you know, huh?”

“Besides, I have another five days. I might be sick of you by then” he tells his dad playfully.

Noah mutters under his breath about young punks who don’t got no respect these days, and Stiles grins.

He resolutely doesn’t think about Peter damn Hale.

It’s fine.

He’ll go back and he won’t be homesick, and he’ll be fine.

He has to be.

* * *

 

The next night is Saturday night, and early in the afternoon Stiles gets a message from Peter reminding him of their dinner not-a-date that night.

**_Remember tonight._ **

**_Can’t wait to see you in that suit._ **

**_And then out of it._ **

As if he could forget, he thinks.

As if he hasn’t lain in bed replaying Peter’s words in his head constantly as he jerks off.

He texts back

 **Oh is that tonight? I forgot**.

Peter sends back a selfie of him flipping Stiles off, and he can do that now, because Stiles has a phone that actually receives pictures, and that doesn’t have a screen that’s cracked to hell.

Peter takes advantage of it too, sending him the oddest assortment of things.

Pictures of his dick.

Porn videos with notes attached saying **_care to try this?_**

Links to websites on managing your college finances saying **_definitely try this_**

Links to study aids.

More dick pics.

Stiles has quickly learned not to open whatever Peter sends him until he’s alone  - it could be anything.

He’s admitted to him that he’s struggling at school. Peter wasn’t even surprised – why else would Stiles have been selling himself in the first place?

But after that first time he tried to slip cash into his wallet, Peter’s never offered money again.

Stiles honestly doesn’t know whether he’s glad or disappointed.

At least if Peter was paying him, he’d know where he stood, but as it is, he doesn’t even know if Peter will miss him when he’s gone, or whether he’ll just move on to the next enticing personal ad, and isn’t that just a bitch?

He decides to stop thinking so damned hard and get ready for their not-date instead.

He showers and shaves meticulously, making sure he’s perfectly groomed, right down to filing his fingernails into smooth half moons.

One of the first things he’d learned with Peter was that if you’re going to be touching another guy’s junk, for the love of god, check your nails.

(But after the initial cursing, once the scratches healed, Peter had forgiven him.)

He styles his hair with more care than he has in the last year, and shines his shoes, and presses his shirt making sure to use the correct heat settings, and by the time he’s ready, he still has an hour to go.

He looks at himself in the mirror, and sees reflected back not a nineteen year old college kid who once spent a week living on cup noodles, but an attractive man.

He looks sharp, even if he says so himself.

He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, thinking of the things Peter’s promised to do to him tonight.

He checks his watch.

55 minutes.

He has time.

He removes the suit and shirt and puts them carefully on a hanger, and then lays back on the bed with his eyes closed, stroking himself. He figures that if Peter’s not going to let him come, then he’d better take the edge off before he goes out.

He grabs the lube from next to his bed and applies a generous amount to his palm, before grabbing hold of himself and starting a smooth rhythm. He thinks of Peter’s hands on him, and Peter’s fingers inside him, and moans as he starts to get truly hard.

He speeds up a little and imagines that he can feel Peter’s goatee scraping along his inner thighs. He starts to tug at his nipples with his other hand, squeezing them lightly, and he feels the sensation travelling down to his dick..

He’s close, so close, when his Dad knocks on the door saying “Stiles? Peter’s here to collect you. You ready son?”

“Just a second “ he cries out, voice sounding reedy and breathless.

At the sound of his Dad’s voice, everything has gone south for him, and he’s left lying on his bed with a limp cock and a handful of lube, perfectly styled hair in disarray, and fucking Peter’s fucking early, and waiting downstairs, and he still has to put the damned suit on.

Fuck.

He wipes his hand on a tissue, pulls his suit on hastily, and bolts into the bathroom to try and recreate his perfect hair.

After several minutes of trying to get it to behave, he thinks _fuck it,_ slaps some extra product in there so it looks like he’s made an effort, grabs his shoes, and goes clattering downstairs.

Peter and his dad look like they’re in deep discussion about something, and his dad looks decidedly shifty, but Stiles can’t think about that right now, because he thought he’d looked good all dressed up, but Peter?

Peter’s fucking gorgeous.

Stiles has to restrain himself from dropping to his knees, pulling Peter’s cock out and blowing him right there.

As it is, he exhales loudly, causing both men to turn and look at him.

“Damn, that’s a nice suit” his dad says admiringly.

“Perfect for what I have planned tonight“ Peter says, eyes sparkling.

Stiles sees him subtly scenting the air, and knows that Peter can smell what he’s been doing.

Sure enough.

“Sorry I’m early Stiles. I didn’t interrupt anything _pressing_ , did I?” he asks, all false concern and easy charm, the fucker.

“No, nothing at all, I was just dicking around with something” he replies nonchalantly.

Peter steps forwards then, and pulls him closer to straighten his tie. “Anything I can give you a hand with?” he purrs.

“Not really, it’s, uh, kind of a one man job” Stiles stammers out.

“Where are you boys going tonight, anyway?” the sheriff asks them.

“I’m going to educate Stiles in the art of eating out” Peter says with a completely straight face.

Stiles narrows his eyes.

Game on.

“In case I get invited to go somewhere that’s more formal, and less easy come, easy go” he clarifies.

“Peter wants to make sure I know whether it’s appropriate to use my fingers.”

Peter lifts a brow at that.

“I’m also going to teach him to take smaller mouthfuls, so doesn’t choke on a giant piece of meat” Peter says, smirking now.

“Mmmm. Apparently I have to work on learning to swallow’ Stiles tells his dad seriously.

Peter snorts.

Stiles grins widely.

“You two can stop anytime ” Noah declares, before telling Stiles to put his damned shoes on and walking through to the kitchen.

Stiles puts the shoes on, and suddenly Peter’s kneeling in front of him, tying the laces for him, and surreptitiously rubbing his face across his crotch where his dad can’t see.

“Stop it!” he hisses.

“Oh no, sweetheart” Peter gives a low chuckle.

“You tried to cheat. You were trying to get off before we went out, after I told you you would have to wait till we got home. This is payback.”

And as he finishes tying Stiles’ laces, he sneaks one hand up and fondles his balls through the fabric, causing his cock to twitch with interest.

“Your meat’s not that giant’ Stiles mutters meanly.

Peter smirks as he stands and brushes his hands over his pants, chasing out any wrinkles, before calling out “Bye Noah.”

“Have fun, kids” comes back the reply.

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles is not having fun.

True to his word, Peter took Stiles back to his place, and he pushed him up against the wall, and dragged his dress pants down around his ankles, and got him hard, and then slipped a cock ring onto him.

And then he fucked him solidly against the wall until Peter was coming with a loud grunt, and Stiles was left hard and wanting.

Stiles panted and squirmed as Peter held him in place against the wall, and licked him out thoroughly until any trace of his release was gone, and Stiles was pink and damp and clean.

And then the bastard slipped a plug in there, and it’s nudging against Stiles’ prostate every time he moves in his seat at the upscale restaurant that Peter’s taken him to.

He couldn’t tell you what he’s had for dinner.

He’s just focusing on eating as fast as he can in polite company, so he can go home and get some relief.

Peter’s in no such hurry.

He’s ordered all four courses, and he’s eating slowly, sipping his wine, looking like he’s having the time of his life.

Stiles thinks he hates him right now.

He tells him as much.

“I fucking hate you right now” he hisses, even as his cock strains and twitches in his pants and Peter slides his stockinged foot into his lap and massages him gently.

Peter smiles serenely, and presses his foot down a little harder.

“Patience ,Stiles” he tells him. 

“Don’t  worry, once we get home you’ll get exactly what you need. You do look very ravishing tonight, by the way. You exceeded all my expectations” Peter says smoothly, his foot still gently running over Stiles’ hard cock.

“I’ll be dead before I get home.  Dead of frustration” Stiles snipes petulantly.

“Are you really not enjoying this? Do you want to stop?” Peter asks him, and Stiles can see that he’s genuine with his question.

If Stiles is just bitching for the sake of it, they’ll carry on. But he knows that if he really wants to stop, Peter won’t hesitate.

And it’s that knowledge that allows Stiles to breathe a little easier, saying “You’d just better make this worth my damned while once we're home, you cruel bastard.”

Peter assures him that he’ll make it worth his while, he promises.

By the time they’ve finished dinner, Stiles is a twitching, sweaty mess.

His tie is no longer nicely tied, and his top two buttons are undone.

His hair has lost any semblance of its earlier style with the number of times he’s run his hands through it, and the wait staff are giving him odd looks as he squirms in his seat.

Peter finally _, finally_ throws his napkin down, and asks “Shall we go?”

Stiles is out of his seat and half way to the car before Peter’s even pushed his chair out.

 

* * *

 

 

There’s a small delay getting into the car, because Stile has pressed Peter against it and is kissing him desperately, and grinding against him.

Peter’s smirking as he finally pushes Stiles away.

“I do love seeing you desperate, sweetheart” he tells him as they get in the car.

“Just get us home, please” Stiles whines.

Peter wonders when his place became home, but he lets it pass for now.

He has more pressing matters to attend to, like taking Stiles apart. For all he’s playing at nonchalance, he’s desperate to get home as well, so he starts the car and drives them home quickly.

When they get there, he lets them in the front door, and then goes into the living room, where he settles himself on the couch, legs spread wide.

Stiles follows him, and tries to join him, but Peter shakes his head.

“Nuh uh. I want you to take off the suit. I want you to do it slowly, and give me a show.”

Stiles folds his arms and gives him an unimpressed look.

“Really. You want me to give you a strip tease.”

“I’d quite like it, yes” Peter replies calmly.

Stiles runs his hands through his hair, and sighs.

“Fine, but only if I get to come after this” he clarifies.

“Stiles, I’ll satisfy you completely. Promise” Peter tells him, grinning filthily.

He damn well will, too, Stiles knows it.

He strips off his jacket and vest quickly, then untucks his shirt and goes to pull it over his head.

“Wait” Peter commands.

Stiles stills with his shirt half off, torso bare, sleeves still in, and snaps out “”What now?”

Peter stands and walks over, and pulls his shirt back down.

“You’re about as good a stripper as you are a hooker, sweetheart” Peter murmurs in his ear.

‘Sit down, and I’ll show you how it’s done.”

He pushes Stiles down onto the couch, and stands in front of him, and starts to undress.

The shoes go first, thrown across the room.

And there’s no music, no dancing, no sexy movements, just Peter slowly, slowly, removing his tie and throwing it onto a chair.

And then sliding his jacket off, and unbuttoning his cuffs casually.

And flicking open the buttons on his vest, and the buttons on his shirt, and leaving them both hanging open so that his stomach and chest are partially exposed.

It’s as sexy as fuck, and Stiles breathes out “Wow.”

Peter undoes his belt buckle and pulls the belt off in a fluid motion, smirking.

He pops the button on his pants, and opens the zip, exposing the fact that he’s not wearing underwear.

He slowly slides the vest and shirt off all at once, and then he honest to god _stalks_ over to Stiles, takes his hands and places them on his hips, and whispers “Take them off me”

Stiles pulls the dress pants down with one sharp tug, and he can see Peter’s erection right in front of him, and he remembers the urge he’d had when he first saw Peter that evening and gives in to it, taking him in his mouth with a moan.

Peter hums in satisfaction and threads his fingers gently into Stiles’ hair, guiding him into a slow rhythm.  He rocks back and forth, enjoying the gentle pressure for a short time, but then he pulls out.

Stiles whines a little, but Peter tells him sternly ”I’m still waiting for you to get undressed, remember? If you can manage it”

Stiles looks up at him, and sees the amused look on Peter’s face.

“You don’t think I can make this sexy” he accuses.

Peter shrugs.

“Well, based on how you started….”  

Stiles has never been one to shy away from a challenge.

He stands, and pulls Peter in for a filthy kiss, before crossing the room and standing with his legs spread wide and his hands on his hips.

He closes his eyes, tries to remember to go slow, and starts to unbutton his shirt.

When he reaches the last button, he runs his hands over his exposed chest, toying with his nipples for a moment before shrugging one shoulder so that the shirt slides down.

He opens his eyes then, and locks his gaze onto Peter as he flicks open his belt and pants, and slides his hand inside, obviously stroking himself.

He hears Peter hum in appreciation, before he has to take his hand away, because he’s already desperate to come, and touching himself isn’t helping the situation.

He slides the pants down so they’re just under his ass cheeks, exposing the damp patch on the front of his underwear.

Peter groans.

Stiles grins.

He’s got this.

He turns his back on Peter then, and lowers the other shoulder of the shirt so that his back is exposed. He bends all the way forwards and lets the shirt fall to the floor, sliding down off his arms.

If that happens to give Peter an excellent view of his ass, it’s purely coincidental.

He straightens up and shoves his hands into the waist of his underwear, and pushes everything down to his knees, and then leans forwards, bracing himself on the wall, pushing his bare ass out, and exposing the plug.

“I take it back. You could definitely be a stripper” Peter growls out right in his ear, and presses his erection against him.

“Jesus Peter, warn a guy!” he exclaims, as his heart races with fright.

Peter chuckles filthily.

”It was too good to resist. Now, since we’re here….” and he pulls the plug out and has grabbed Stiles by the hips and is fucking into him before Stiles even realises what’s happening.

He reaches around and takes the cock ring off, and pumps his hand along Stiles’ cock, saying “Whenever you’re ready, love”  

And Stiles is so, so ready, that between the feeling of Peter pounding into him as he’s braced against the wall, and the hand on his cock, he comes in about thirty seconds, crying out loudly as his orgasm wracks his body.

He gulps in great lungfuls of air, breathing heavily as he recovers, barely registering it when Peter comes only moments later.

He feels Peter pull out though, and the sensation brings him back to earth a little.

He pushes off the wall and they both stagger to the couch, Stiles stepping out of his pants on the way, and muttering “Jesus fuck, Peter, that was intense” as he collapses face down.

”Hmmm” Peter replies from right next to him, as he drapes himself over Stiles’ back.

They both sprawl there, recovering, and Stiles’ brain slowly comes back online, and something niggles at the back of his mind.

He gets it, suddenly, and his eyes snap open.

“Peter, did you just call me _love_?” he demands.

Peter opens his eyes.

“Possibly” he admits.

“Peter Hale, did you just have an emotion? ”

Peter brushes it off, saying “Highly doubtful. I’m sure I’d know if I did. It must have been the heat of the moment.”

Stiles deflates a little.

“Oh” he says in a small voice, and pulls his body away from Peters, ever so slightly.

The silence stretches uncomfortably between them, until Stiles can’t stand it.

“So, when I leave next week, you won’t miss me?” he asks.

“Of course I’ll miss this” Peter replies.

“But not _me_ , just the sex.”

Stiles doesn’t know why he’s pushing this.

“Well I’ll miss you, obviously, but we always knew this had a limited shelf life, at least as it stands now” Peter points out.

He hesitates, and Stiles picks up on it.

“What? What do you mean, as it stands?”

Peter groans, and drags himself upright, and holds a hand out to Stiles, and tells him “Shower, first. We need to talk, and I refuse to do it while you have come leaking out of your ass.”

Stile follows him to the shower grudgingly, all sorts of dire scenarios running through his head.

He thinks to himself that no good ever comes from a conversation that starts “we need to talk.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t date. It’s messy. I have paid arrangements.” Peter states simply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What, another chapter? You're all benefiting from the stars being in alignment - Mr Almasy is home,and I'm off work.   
> I hope you enjoy!

In what’s possibly a first for them, Peter and Stiles shower together without either of them offering to blow the other. It’s a perfunctory wash at best.

They dry off, and Peter throws Stiles a pair of sweats that he’s left there on a previous occasion.

Stiles realises that he has entirely too many clothes that he’s left at Peter’s.

He sits down at the table, arms folded, and says “So, talk.”

Peter sighs, wondering where to start.

In the end he decides to just be upfront.

“I was talking to Noah earlier and he asked me to try and subtly find out why you don’t want to go back to school. I thought I’d just ask you instead. You’re miserable there, I know that much, but why exactly?”

It takes Stiles a moment to process what Peter’s said, because honestly, he’d been prepared for the “It was fun and now it’s done” speech.

“That’s what you want to talk about?” he asks finally.

“No. Yes. No. Yes and no.”

“Well thanks, that’s so much clearer” Stiles retorts.

Peter holds up a hand.

“Let me start again. It’s part of what I want to talk to you about, but I need to know about this, before we talk about that” he clarifies.

“So tell me. Why don’t you want to go back?”

Stiles leans back in his chair and sighs.

“Well, let’s see. The course is bullshit and I hate everything about it, my job sucks, my roommate smells of sour milk and masturbates constantly, I’m broke, and I miss my dad. Other than that? It’s fan – fucking – tastic”

Peter regards him keenly.

“What would you actually like to study? And why take business in the first place?”

Stiles groans loudly.

“It was the sensible option, OK? I mean, I can do the work OK, my grades are actually pretty good, but it’s so damned boring. What I _want_ to study is Mythology and Folklore, but there are no jobs in that field, and I’m not going to waste my college fund on what’s essentially a useless degree.”

Peter hums.

“OK. I can actually help with this.”

“Don’t see how, exactly” Stiles grumbles, resting his forehead on the table dejectedly.

“I can fund your studies.”

His head snaps up.

“Fuck off. I’m not a charity case”

Peter had expected that reaction, so he calmly replies “This isn’t charity.”

“I’m offering a simple business proposition.”

Stiles narrows his eyes.

“Stiles, have I ever lied to you yet?” Peter asks impatiently.

"No" he concedes.

“So what exactly are you proposing?” he asks warily.

“If you want to change your course, I can help you. If you want to change schools, I’m willing to fund that too. I’m prepared to pay your rent, your tuition, and your groceries.”

“What, not my internet and utilities?” Stiles says sarcastically.

Peter arches a brow at him.

“I’m not joking, Stiles.”

‘So what do you get out of this, then?” Stiles asks

“I get you” Peter answers simply.

“While you’re away at college, you remain exclusively mine.

You don’t sleep with anyone but me, you don’t date anyone.

And one weekend a month, I come and see you and debauch you, for the entire weekend.No excuses, no rainchecks.

We work around your study schedule, obviously, but as a rough rule of thumb, the weekend closest to a full moon, your ass is mine.”

Stiles regards him for a moment.

“You’re serious” he states.

“I’m serious” Peter confirms.

“Think about it, Stiles. We’re good together. I enjoy you in bed, and out of it, if I’m honest. This way I don’t have to worry that you’re not looking after yourself, you can live somewhere decent that doesn’t smell like old cheese, and we both get to have a good time once a month.”

Stiles says slowly “So….you’re happy to pay for me to get a pointless degree, and to keep me, so you have a guaranteed booty call every full moon.”

“I don’t actually think it will be pointless, but that’s the gist of it, yes.” Peter confirms.

Stiles chews on his thumbnail, eyes firmly on the table top as he considers it.

“Tell me Peter,” he says at last “Why?”

Peter blinks.

“Why me?” Stiles persists. 

“Can’t you just move on to someone new once I’m gone? It seems awfully inconvenient for you to travel so far”

It’s actually only two hours by road, but Stiles has a point to make.

He continues “I mean, it’s not even like I’m particularly skilled in bed. I just came all over your wall in under a minute. Surely you can get better value for money than that?”

“I want you. I’m accustomed to this now, and I like it” Peter replies honestly.

He asks Peter then, “What if I say no to this? Do we still see each other?”

“You won’t say no. And no. It’s this or nothing.”

“I might say no. I might say no because I want to date without you throwing money at me. I might just want you to ask me out.”

“I don’t date. It’s messy. I have paid arrangements.” Peter states simply.

“Really? Because from how you’ve been acting, I could have sworn we might actually be dating - I mean, what do you call tonight, going out to dinner in fucking suits?”

Stiles' tone is suddenly icy.

Shit, thinks Peter. He sort of has a point.

He panics, and does the one thing he swore to Stiles he’d never do.

He lies.

“It’s just sex” he offers finally.

Stiles looks disbelieving.

“Tell me this doesn’t mean anything to you, that I don’t mean anything.” he challenges.

Peter hesitates, and says “We’re not dating, Stiles.”

“Huh. Nice to know where I stand. Good enough to be your whore, but not your date!” Stiles hisses, and he storms out.

Peter hears the front door slam, and belatedly realises that Stiles has left without his phone, wallet, shoes, or clothes.

And he also realises that he’s just fucked up majorly, because he’s too damned stubborn to know a good thing when he sees it, apparently.

The first person he’s genuinely felt anything for in years is currently walking home in nothing but a pair of old sweats, because Peter was too fucking stubborn to admit that they’re more than fuck buddies.

He briefly debates just letting him go.

A clean break would be for the best, before school starts, if Stiles really won’t take his offer.

But then his wolf clamors at him at the thought of Stiles alone and half-dressed and unprotected, and Peter, in a moment of clarity, realises that he doesn’t want a clean break.

He doesn’t want any break at all.

He sighs, grabs his car keys, and goes looking for him.

* * *

 

He sees Stiles walking down the side of the road at a fast pace, and pulls up beside him, winding down the window and telling him “Stiles, get in. You’re half naked for god’s sake.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t charge for the view” Stiles snaps out, walking slightly faster.

Peter can tell from the set of his shoulders that he’s still royally pissed off.

He speeds up slightly and drives across the kerb so that he’s in front of Stiles, and parks there, cutting him off.

He gets out of the driver’s side and physically grabs him round the waist, lifting him kicking and protesting off the ground.

“Son of a bitch, out me down, or I’ll scream rape!” Stiles snarls at him.

“Fire” Peter replies, as Stiles struggles fruitlessly against his wolf strength.

Stiles stops struggling to look at him, brows furrowed and ask “What did you say?”

“Fire” Peter repeats patiently. “Statistically, if you call rape, nobody will respond. You should always call fire. How can you not know that?”

It distracts Stiles long enough that Peter’s able to put him down, spin him around, put his arms around his waist, and draw him close.

He takes a deep breath, buries his face in Stiles’ neck, and mumbles something that sounds like it contains the words _you were_ _right_ , followed by “I’m sorry, OK?”

Stiles puts his hand under Peter’s chin and lifts his face, asking him “Pardon? I didn’t hear that.”

“You heard me just fine.” Peter pouts.

“Um no, because squishy human, no super wolf hearing. What did you say?” he demands.

“I said that you were right. I have feelings. Happy?” Peter huffs out.

He’s having to deal with having emotions and apologising at the same time, and frankly he’s finding it all a bit much.

Stiles isn’t letting him off that easily, though.

“Not really, no. You say it like it’s the worst thing in the world to like me. Way to make a guy feel special, Peter.”

Peter groans.

“I’m fucking this right up, aren’t I?”

Stiles considers. “Well, you’ve offered to fuck me once a month for money, then told me you don’t really care for me and that the last month’s just been about sex, and now you’re assaulting me in the middle of a dark street. So on balance, yes.”

Peter pulls Stiles closer, and says “Can we at least get in the damned car to discuss my failings?”

‘Fine, but only because I’m cold” Stiles agrees reluctantly.

They get in the car, Peter turns on the engine and they head back to his place.

Stiles starts to protest, but as Peter points out “If I take you home half naked your father will shoot me on sight, especially given how you looked when you left. We’ll go back to mine, talk about this properly, and then I’ll take you home.”

“Fine. But we sort this shit out, Peter. I’m damned if I going to carry on not knowing where I stand.”

They sit in silence for the rest of the drive.

* * *

 

 

As soon as they get in the door, Stiles starts rooting around on Peter’s drawers for a shirt.

He finds a long sleeved iron man tee, and drags it on.

Peter looks at him, seeing the defensive set of his shoulders, and sighs.

“Stiles, this is why I don’t date. I’m just naturally bad at it. I piss people off without even trying.”

“Tell me something I don’t know” Stiles snorts.

Peter rubs his hands down his face, and tries again.

“Stiles, I don’t date. _Normally_ ” he hastens to add, seeing Stiles open his mouth.

“I’m not comfortable with it.”

He takes a deep breath.

“Today’s a case in point. You don’t know what’s going on, and neither do I. Whereas if we had an arrangement, we’d both have clear guidelines, and we wouldn’t be here now, we’d be in my bed.”

“But I’d be your plaything. I’m worth more than that” Stiles protests.

Peter knows he’s going to have to confess, then.

“I lied to you today, Stiles. I know I said I never would, but I did.”

“When? “ Stiles challenges.

“When I said it was just sex.” Peter admits.

Stiles relaxes the tiniest bit.

“Was that so hard to admit?” he asks Peter.

“Yes, actually. I have arrangements, Stiles. I know how they work. You can’t blame me for sticking with what I know.” Peter reasons.

“You might have a point” Stiles concedes, grudgingly.

He asks Peter hesitantly “So, not just sex, then?”

“Not just sex” Peter confirms.

“You mean something to me, Stiles. I'm having fucking feelings.” Peter tells him.

“It’s just that I have no idea how to deal with that.”

Peter looks so damned wretched standing there that Stiles can’t help but react. He walks over and wraps himself around him, holding him tight.

Normally they don’t hug, unless there’s some sort of sex happening, but he feels that this might be an exception.

“You’re an idiot, Peter.” He murmurs in his ear.

“But god help me, I kind of like you.”

He pulls back and looks Peter in the eye.

“I’ll take the offer.”

 

* * *

 

 

Peters mouth opens and closes.

“Sorry, what?”

“I’ll take the offer” Stiles repeats.

“But I thought you wanted to date” Peter says, confused.

“No, I wanted to know where we stood. Now I know.”

Peter’s no closer to understanding.

Stiles rolls his eyes.

“Peter, you like me. I like you. But you’re not comfortable dating, and I know you’ll be happier if you can throw money at this thing, whatever it is.

And frankly, I’m broke. And now that I know I’m not just somewhere for you to get your dick wet, I can’t deny that the thought of living somewhere that doesn’t smell like sour milk and semen is appealing. So yes, I’ll accept your arrangement, on one condition.”

He grins, as he parrots back at him

“While I’m away, you remain exclusively mine.

You don’t sleep with anyone but me, you don’t date anyone.

And one weekend a month, you come and see me and debauch me, for the entire weekend.”

Peter takes a moment to catch up.

“Deal” he says.

Stiles holds up his hand, saying “Wait, wait. A wise man once told me I need to get everything set in stone before I start anything like this. I agree in principle, but there are a few things we need to work out.”

“Anything you want, sweetheart” Peter tells him, relieved.

“ _Anything’s_ a dangerous promise” Stiles purrs in his ear, and licks up the shell of it.

He pulls away and looks at Peter consideringly.

“So, tomorrow, we hash this thing out, figure out the guidelines?” he confirms.

“If you still want to” Peter replies, smiling now.

“Well I mean, I’m reasonably certain I want to” Stiles says.

“But first of all, there’s the little matter of you breaking your promise to me tonight” he says seriously.

Peter cocks his head, spreading his arms as if to say _what?_

“You said you’d satisfy me completely. You said you’d give me what I need. Yet here I am, not completely satisfied.”

“If I’m expected to be your kept man, I need to know what I’m getting once a month.”

Peter’s eyes darken with desire.

“Oh, I think you know what I can offer” he purrs.

“Well yes, but this is part of a negotiation” Stiles insists.

‘The one thing I’ve learnt studying is that you can’t trust the quality of a product based on past performance.

You need up to date information, the more recent the better. I mean, I know what you had to offer me before, but what can you show me _now_?”

Peter lifts him bodily off the ground and throws him over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift, carrying him through to the bedroom and dropping him down on the bed so hard that he bounces.

“Oh, I can show you plenty” he promises, eyes sparkling.

“Just you wait.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Peter?” Stiles says as they lay sprawled across the wreck of the bed, loose limbed and sleepy.  
> “Mmmm”  
> “Is this going to work? I mean, is it going to be weird?”

“I know what you’re trying to do, you bastard” Stiles pants out as Peter slips his tongue further inside him.

It takes him a moment to answer, but finally his head pops up between Stiles’ legs, face wet with saliva, and he grins and says “Really? Do tell.”

‘Trying to make me beg”  Stiles gasps, as fingers replace Peter’s tongue.

“Of course. How will I know I’m doing a good job otherwise?” Peter says, smirking.

He twists his fingers just so as he speaks, and Stiles lets out a sound that’s not quite a squeal.

“Now stop distracting me. I’m trying to show you what I’ve got” he tells Stiles sternly, and goes back to fingering him and mouthing his balls.

Stiles groans loudly at the feel of a hot tongue against his flesh as Peter licks up his shaft, complaining “You’re just teasing now. Come on and fuck me already”

“Oh not yet, sweetheart, you’re barely open” Peter argues.

“I feel open, I feel _plenty_ open” Stiles grouses, but Peter won’t be rushed, Stiles knows from past experience.

And Peter does indeed take his time, making sure Stiles is stretched and loose and wet for him, before finally sliding in and starting to move.

Stiles makes a deeply satisfied sound as he feels Peter filling him, pressing into him deeply as he lays face down on the mattress with his legs spread as wide as they’ll go. Peter starts a slow, rolling motion, thrusting forwards while he nips at the junction of Stiles’ neck and shoulder. Stiles presses back against him, encouraging him to go deeper, and Peter does.

He starts growling lowly in the back of his throat as his climax approaches, as Stiles grunts out “Fuck that’s hot. Growl at me some more.”

Peter does, and he can feel Stiles’ heart rate pick up on hearing the sound.

Interesting.

He starts to rut into him harder, almost snarling, and Stiles whimpers as he feels every stroke hit his prostate.

Peter drags Stiles’ hips upwards so he’s kneeling in front of him, and really starts pounding into him, at the same time slipping a hand underneath to stroke Stiles’ cock, and he feels him coming suddenly, clenching around him as he continues to slam forward ruthlessly.

When Peter comes moments afterwards, it’s with a roar.

Stiles is still clenching around him, gasping out “Holy fuck, I’m dying.”

Peter pulls out gently as he lowers them both to the mattress, panting.

They lay there recovering for a moment, and Peter closes his eyes.

They doze a little, before Stiles insists that he’s not quite sure that he’s completely sated yet, and that perhaps they can have another round or two, just to be certain.

And they do.

Stiles declares, as he lays unable to move later, that they should fight more often if this is what make up sex is like.

 

* * *

 

 

“You know, I‘m starting to like the phrase ‘exclusive arrangement’. It sounds so much classier than ‘dating some guy back home”  Stiles muses, as he continues to scribble down a list of conditions for Peter.

Peter hadn’t thought he was serious at first about wanting to add terms of his own, but he soon realises he was mistaken.

Stiles, it turns out, is a ruthless negotiator.

His first condition is that his dad doesn’t _ever_ find out – as far as Noah’s concerned, they’re dating casually.

It’s non- negotiable.

They confirm that Peter will pay Stiles’ rent on an apartment near campus, but Stiles insists that he gets to choose.

Peter starts to object, but Stiles fixes him with a look, and tells him “We know damn well you’ll choose something over the top. I just want something halfway decent that won’t make my Dad suspicious.”

Peter concedes that he’s right.

Of course, there are the basics like food and gas and a decent coffee machine.

Peter manages to get to pay tuition, after arguing that they can make up some sort of scholarship to keep Noah from finding out.

He  offers to cover any hospital costs, but Stiles draws the line there, once again citing not wanting to raise any alarm bells for his father.

“You’re going to use Noah as your excuse every time you don’t want to accept something from me, aren’t you?” Peter says, frowning.

“Yep” Stiles agrees cheerfully.

He does want Peter to cover any dental and optical costs though – he admits that he thinks he needs his eyes tested.

Peter thinks about Stiles in glasses, and agrees with a smirk.

Peter finds it incredibly sexy watching a determined Stiles in action as he argues and bullies his way through the agreement, and he’s so turned on by it that he ends up saying yes to everything, just so he can drag him off to bed and ride him until they’re both breathless and flushed.

By the time they’re done, Peter has agreed to pay for far less than he’s happy about, but Stiles won’t budge, and refuses to take a cent more. 

 

* * *

 

 

Of course, it’s all academic until Stiles makes a decision about his degree.

But when they look at the course credit’s he’s completed, they discover that most of it’s stuff that he can carry over.

Stiles breathes a sigh of relief.

He hadn’t realised before, but changing his degree isn’t as out of the question as he’d first thought. Of course, there’s the small matter of getting into the course that he wants, and what he’ll do afterwards.

Peter hums.

“Are you absolutely set on Mythology?  Because there’s a degree in the Supernatural, you know.”

“That’s my dream degree, but that course is impossible to get into” sighs Stiles.

“I know the lecturers who run it. I can pull some strings, if you’re interested.They owe me.”

“How the hell do you know the lecturers, and why do they owe you?” Stiles asks.

He’s intrigued.

Peter grins, and flicks out his claws. “Hmmm, let me think, what would a werewolf have to offer a lecturer in supernatural studies? Maybe inside information?”

Stiles grins, saying “Are you their Google?”

Peter clarifies. “Actually, I wrote the course material on werewolves for them, and I went through their other source notes and corrected them.”

“They  do owe you, then.”

“They owe me big time. So if you want, I can get you in.”

Stiles grins.

“Hell, yes.”

* * *

 

The next day, his dad doesn’t even bat an eyelid when Stiles tells him that he’s switching his courses.

“I’m glad to hear it, you weren’t happy” he says.

And then he asks the million dollar question. “What about your ‘not really a thing’ with Peter?”

 Stiles smiles broadly, and tells him that he and Peter are dating.

“Well it’s about time you realised it, kiddo ” is all he says, grinning.

 

* * *

 

In the end it only takes Peter three phone calls and a promise to help with this term’s marking to get Stiles into the courses he’s chosen.

And it turns out that by switching, Stiles also has an extra week before classes start, giving him time to sort out his accommodation.

They celebrate by spending the Friday night playing with some of the toys they purchased on their shopping trip.

And it’s a long but satisfying night, and they agree the next morning that it possibly wasn’t the smartest move when they have to get up at 5am to drive and look at apartments, but they don’t regret a minute of it.

Even if Stiles does have a slight limp.

 

It turns out that Peter has a friend in real estate.

Of course he does.

He has a shortlist of properties near campus for them to look at. Stiles rejects all of them out of hand as being too big, too expensive, too fancy.

“I mean, look at me Peter. If I lived here the doorman would frisk me every damned day” he protests once they enter the first building.

Peter has to admit that he has a point. They’re getting looks from the other residents already, and they’re only in the foyer.

Stiles turns to the agent.

“Affordable, clean, decent accommodation, suitable for a single student. Got anything like that on your list?”

Turns out he does, much to Peter’s chagrin.

He does manage to talk Stiles up to an actual house, though.

Stiles insists he only needs an apartment, right until Peter leans over and whispers in his ear “If we get a house, there’s less chance of the neighbors  hearing  it when I make you scream, sweetheart.”

Stiles caves immediately.

The small two bedroom house he chooses isn’t anything special, but it has working aircon, it’s furnished, it’s clean, and it’s a five minute walk from campus.

Most importantly for Stiles, it has parking for his Jeep.

Most importantly for Peter, Stiles likes it.

“We’ll take it” Peter tells the agent, and it’s the work of minutes to sign the lease and arrange for Stiles to move in on Monday.

Apparently waiting periods and reference checks don’t apply to Peter.

Stiles is grinning as they climb into the car.

“I’m going to live somewhere decent this year, it’s such a relief, you don’t even know” he tells Peter, and he can’t keep the smile off his face.

“Well, I need somewhere acceptable to stay when I come and visit you every month” Peter reminds him.

 “A month, Peter. God, that’s a long time.”

Stiles looks hopeful as he suggests “You could come sooner, if you wanted?”

Peter’s tempted, honestly. But he steels himself.

“Stiles, the whole idea is that you live your life, and I live mine, and we meet once a month. If I keep coming to visit you, you’ll end up failing your course.”

Stiles’ face falls.

“I know, it’s just that I’ve only just gotten used to regular sex. And now I’m giving it up again. It doesn’t seem right” he sighs.

He looks idly out the window, and says “Peter, you missed the turnoff.”

“No I didn’t” Peter says, smiling to himself.

“We aren’t going back to Beacon Hills tonight.”

“But I can’t move in till Monday. Where are we staying?”

“You’ll see” Peter promises.

Shortly afterwards, he pulls into the Hilton.

“I thought that since we won’t be doing this for a month, we might as well do it in style” he says, eyes sparkling.

Stiles doesn’t answer.

He’s too busy texting his dad.

**_Staying here overnight_ **

**_Hilton, baby_ **

Noah texts back a thumbs up.

* * *

 

 

“Peter?” Stiles says as they lay sprawled across the wreck of the bed, loose limbed and sleepy.

“Mmmm”

“Is this going to work? I mean, is it going to be weird?”

Peter opens one eye.

“Does it feel weird?”

Stiles shifts around on the bed restlessly.

“A little, actually. I’m not sure if I’m allowed to say no to you, now.”

Peter snorts.

“Stiles, you’ve never been able to say no to me. I’m irresistible. It’s part of my charm.”

Stiles sits up then.

“No, I’m serious. It feels like you’ve hired me now.”

Peter drags himself upright, grumbling.

“Stiles, we’re not doing anything we weren’t doing before. It’s just that now I don’t have to worry about you starving, or doing something stupid for money.”

“Still. I mean it’s great in theory, but I feel like I don’t have any control now, you know? What if you want to end it? Where does that leave me?”

Peter looks at him, arching an eyebrow.

“Stiles, trust me when I say this isn’t ending any time soon, not if I have any say.”

 “Now stop thinking so hard, you’re ruining my afterglow” Peter instructs him, and pulls him back down, arranging them so that he’s the big spoon.

Stiles manages to stay still and quiet for approximately three minutes.

“You’d warn me though, right? If you wanted out? “

Peter huffs as he pulls them both upright.

“Let me make one thing clear, Stiles. This is a mutual arrangement. We’re both here as long as we want to be here. If you choose to end this tomorrow, everything that we’ve arranged carries on. I still pay what we agreed on. You keep the house, you keep your place in the course. I didn’t do those things just as payment for your company. I did them because I actually care about you. And I have no intention of ending this.”

“I guess.”

“But, say you did want out, how would that go?”

Peter groans.

“I mean, how do you normally end these things? How did you do it when you left the others?” Stiles persists.

 “Actually, both times they’ve been the ones to leave me” Peter says, and Stiles sees a flash of hurt in his eyes.

“Wow. What did you do?”

“Why do you assume I did something? Maybe they just moved on” Peter bristles.

“Unlikely ” Stiles observes.

Peter remains quiet for a little too long.

“Peter? What’s wrong?” Stiles asks, suddenly worried he’s crossed some line.

 

“Fine. One of them left because they were moving across the country.”

Stiles waits patiently for Peter to continue.

 And one of them left when he saw this” Peter says finally, and he closes his eyes, concentrating, and shifts.

His face becomes a craggy landscape, a garish imitation of his normally handsome features. Fur sprouts on his face. His eyes glow. He has honest to god fangs.

His whole body changes, becoming more muscular, more animalistic.

Stiles watches in fascination. He’s never seen a shift close up like this before.

He reaches out a hand, and runs it down Peter’s jaw.

“Holy fuck.”

Peter shifts back, before saying “I know, it’s not pretty. It was a full moon. I shifted without meaning to, and he saw me. Literally ran screaming from the room, and refused to speak to me again. Told me by text that whatever I was, he wasn’t into it.”

Stiles hesitates before saying “So, you didn’t tell him you were a werewolf?”

“I didn’t see the need, honestly. Normally my control’s  watertight.”

Peter runs his hands self-consciously over his face.  

“So, now you’ve seen it.” he sighs, closing his eyes, ready for the usual expression of disgust.

They snap open at Stiles’ next words.

“Damn, Peter. Want you to fuck me when you’re shifted, one day.”

Peter looks carefully to see if he’s joking, but Stiles is serious.

“I don’t think you do, Stiles, trust me” he replies. “It’s intense. I tend to get a little rough.”

“Don’t care. It’s hot".

Peter blinks.

“Really?”

“God yes, hot as fuck. The whole werewolf thing just does it for me, y’know? So if you want to, I’m in.”

“We’ll talk about it maybe, but I’m not promising anything, I can get….carried away.” Peter finally says.

“Fair enough” Stiles agrees.

A thought strikes him then.

“Do you really get a knot?” he asks mischievously.

“Of course I don’t! What the hell have you been reading? The sooner you start your studies the better” Peter says indignantly.

“You gonna help me study? Be my test subject for biology?” Stiles leers.

Peter pushes him off the bed.

Once he helps him back up though, Stiles declares himself so fascinated by Peter’s were form that he insists he shift back, and then spends an hour just rubbing his hands over him, exploring the differences in his body, and crowing with delight when he realises that Wolf Peter is packing a little more heat than normal Peter.

“Oh god, one day you _have_ to fuck me like this” he says excitedly.

And then he straddles him, takes him in his mouth, and blows him enthusiastically.

It’s not a reaction that Peter’s ever had before.

* * *

 

Stiles wakes him at 5am.

“Peter?”

He grunts.

“I’m sorry I said it was weird. I just had to get my head around it”

Peter huffs and rolls over.

“If we were just plain dating, you’d still do all this, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes. Now go to sleep.”

“Thought so. Just had to check.”

“mmmff”

“Peter?”

_“whaaaat?”_

“I don’t think we’ll be ending this any time soon.”

“Good. Now sleep.”

“Peter? I’m thinking about your wolf. It’s turning me on, just so you know.”

“Good to know. Sleeping now.”

“Peter? Are you sure you’re sleeping?  I thought if you were awake enough you could fuck me”

“I’m awake _now_ ” Peter answers, as he gives in and rolls over, bracketing Stiles beneath his body and growling lowly into his ear, earning him a delighted laugh.

* * *

 

 

On Monday, Peter and Stiles move his stuff out of his old shared room, and into the house.

Peter hears Stiles’ roommate ask him  “Who’s the hot guy?”

“Oh, Peter? We have an arrangement” Stiles tells him, smiling.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, MrAlmasy has made it home safely, and you all know what that means - a new chapter!  
> Welcome home Seifer, glad you're safe and well.

College is different when you enjoy it.

It’s different when you aren’t stressing about whether you’ll still have the power connected when you get home.

It’s different when your room doesn’t smell of curdled cheese and desperate jerking off.

It’s different when your new reading glasses mean you don’t get a headache after half an hour.

And it’s different when you know that at the end of most days you’ll get a text or a phone call asking if you’ve eaten, or if you’ve slept, and it’s not from your dad.

Stiles finds it unsettling, to be honest.

Everything’s going so much better than last year.

It’s almost too good, and he can’t help but wait for the other shoe to drop.

But the first three weeks pass, and he’s enjoying his classes, and sleeping better, and sexting Peter on the regular, and he starts to settle in.

Of course, there are a few issues he didn’t expect.

Like how much he misses Peter. They talk or text most days, but it’s not the same as seeing that lazy smirk, feeling those broad hands holding your hips in place, hearing that sinful laugh…..

Stiles tells himself that it is what it is, and counts down the days till Peter can come and see him.

 

And of course, he gets a few side eyes in his new course, and some of the other students make comments about how he’s managed to get in at all without having jumped through all the hoops they had to.

The words _friends in high places_ are used, and Stiles goes to shoot them down, but when he thinks about it, are they wrong?

He stays quiet and just concentrates on the course work.

Anyway, the comments stop pretty quickly when Stiles aces their first quiz with 90%.

It’s just fortunate that it’s on characteristics of an unshifted werewolf, something he’s intimately familiar with.

He resists the urge to write “can fuck like a machine” down on the test, because he’s apparently  an adult.

He tells Peter about it during their nightly phone call, and Peter snickers and tells him he should have, it would have gained him the extra marks.

“Of course sexual stamina’s on the list. Remember who wrote the course material, Stiles” he reminds him.

Stiles laughs.

“Speaking of wolf stamina, I’m so excited to see you this weekend, you don’t even know” Stiles tells him.

“Same here” Peter says, and he’s surprised by how much he means it.

The phone calls have been good, in fact some of them have been downright filthy, but surprisingly they spend most of their time chatting and laughing with each other, Stiles winding Peter up about being an old man, and Peter teasing him in return about being his kept boy.

 But talking on the phone is a pale imitation of having Stiles in his arms and in his bed.

He’s visiting two days after the full moon, and he’s driving up on Friday, since Stiles has no Friday classes.

If Peter gets his way, they won’t leave the house all weekend.

 

* * *

 

Stiles waits impatiently for Peter’s arrival on Friday, filling in his morning cleaning up around the house, making sure the fridge is stocked, changing the sheets, changing them again for the high thread count ones, showering, and at the last minute racing out for lube.

He’s just parking in the driveway when Peter pulls up behind him, and he leaps out of the car excitedly, turning and beaming at him.

Peter takes three steps forwards and picks him up, swinging him round as he kisses him.

“Hello, my clever boy” he breathes in his ear, and then dives in for another kiss.

Stiles kisses him back passionately, and they break apart panting.

“You got your glasses” Peter observes, pushing the frames up Stile’s nose with his finger. “I like them, darling. I think I’d like to fuck you while you wear them.”

Stiles whines a little at the thought.

He flails a little when Peter lifts him completely off the ground, but then he just wraps his legs around Peter, who walks them up to the front door with Stiles clinging to him like a baby koala.

He protests when Peter puts him down, but the older man reminds him “Keys, sweetheart.”

Oh, right. Door.

Stiles unlocks the door and they tumble inside, Peter still kissing him and scenting him.

He stops for a moment, just to pull back and really look at Stiles.

He looks good, Peter decides.

He’s wearing quality clothing that fits. His eyes are bright and clear, he’s gained a little weight, enough to cover the sharp jut of his bones, and he smells content.

Peter’s wolf preens at seeing him thrive.

Peter just wants to take him apart.

A month is too damned long, he thinks.

Stiles obviously feels the same, because his hands are in Peter’s hair, pulling him forwards for another kiss.

“Hey there” Stiles says when he finally comes up for air.

“Hey yourself” Peter replies, his words muffled as he nuzzles into the crook of Stiles’ neck.

They finally draw apart, both grinning like fools.

Stiles takes Peter’s hand and tries to draw him further into the house, but Peter pulls away.

“First things first, let me unpack the car or it’ll never get done” he chides softly.

Stiles shrugs.

“Is there anything you really need in there? I mean, are we actually leaving the house this weekend?”

“Stiles, let me bring my bag in, and then I swear I’m all yours for the weekend, but I do at least need a toothbrush” Peter tells him.

Stiles rolls his eyes, but they bring the bag inside.

 “I’m going to have a shower after the drive” says Peter as he heads into the bathroom. Stiles follows him, shedding his clothes as he goes and asking “Room for two in there?”

There really isn’t, it’s cramped with the two of them squashed up together, but they kind of make it work, until finally the lack of space puts a stop to their activities when Stiles bangs his elbows on the taps once too often.

He hisses through his teeth, and says ‘Nope, this is way less sexy than I thought it would be” before climbing out.

He dries himself quickly and then waits in the bedroom for Peter, wrapped in his towel.

“You know, you could have had somewhere with a bigger bathroom, but no, you wanted this house” Peter reminds him as he walks into the bedroom naked.

“Just stop right there” Stiles tells him.

Peter pauses, confused.

Stiles looks him up and down slowly, lingering on Peter’s obvious erection, and there’s heat in his gaze.

“I just wanted to remind myself of how hot you are. Now get over here” Stiles tells him, grinning.

Peter complies eagerly, sliding onto the bed next to him and asking “What would you like, sweetheart?”

“Whatever you’d like, Peter. I’m yours all weekend” Stiles tells him simply.

“Mmmmm” Peter replies, as he rolls them onto their sides and curls up behind Stiles.

He hesitates just for a moment.

He’d thought on the drive here about how he’d like to fuck Stiles senseless, and he still does, but that’s not his driving urge right now.

“What I’d really like, honestly? Is to lie here and hold you and get my scent all over you. It’s my wolf.” he says, almost apologetically.

“I suppose I can tolerate lying here while a gorgeous man rubs himself all over me” Stiles sighs dramatically, even as he arches his back and presses against Peter.

Peter turns him so they’re facing each other.

“Stiles, I don’t think you understand. I want to get my scent _all over you”_  he emphasizes, and he starts stroking himself, catching the drops of precome on the head of his cock and rubbing them into the skin of Stile’s chest.

“Oh. _Oh”_ Stiles breathes.

He puts his hand on Peter’s where he’s still massaging gently, and rubs along with him.

“I shouldn’t be as turned on by that as I am right now, but fuck”  he groans.

He ducks his head down and takes Peter into his mouth, sinking down slowly until he can’t go any further.

Peter gasps at the sudden sensation, and his hands find their way to the back of Stiles’ head, holding him in place.

Stiles starts to move, Peter’s cock sliding easily between his lips as he licks and sucks and swirls his tongue. Peter starts to thrust up involuntarily, and Stiles gags as he goes too deep.

He pulls off for a moment then, gasping, before looking up at Peter and grinning, and going back to what he was doing.

It’s been a month, and sexting’s not the same as the real thing, and Stiles looks divine as he struggles to fit more of Peter into his mouth. The sensations are intense, and Peter can feel that he’s close.

He tugs on Stiles’ hair in warning, and just as he starts to come Stiles pulls off so that he ends up with most of Peter’s come streaking his face and in his hair.

Stiles grins at him, and deliberately runs a finger through the mess and spreads it on his chest.

Peter starts to rumble low in his chest at the sight.

“God, that’s hot” Stiles tells him.

Peter has never had anyone react so positively to his wolvish traits in the bedroom. He normally tries to keep them under wraps, but with Stiles, it’s different.

Stiles won’t care if he pops a fang or shows a claw.

Stiles actively encourages it, loves to hear him growling, see his eyes flashing.

And honestly, Peter’s never realised how much of his focus has gone into keeping the wolf hidden.

Now, with permission to indulge, he finds that he feels….free.

He leans forwards now, and rolls Stiles onto his back, and rubs his release all over his body. He knows it’s going to get showered off soon, but he still hums with quiet satisfaction as he works it into Stiles’ skin, ingraining his scent deeply into the wonderful clever boy who seems to know exactly what he needs.

 _Mine_ whispers his wolf.

Stiles lies there pliantly while Peter massages him, and once he’s finished, Peter brings his hand up to Stiles’ hard cock and pumps it in smooth strokes, quickly and efficiently bringing him to orgasm, before rubbing Stiles’ own release into his skin as well.

Then he rolls him to his side and snuggles up firmly behind him, scenting him deeply and mumbling ”Better.”

Stiles gives a soft chuckle.

“Satisfied the wolf now?” he asks teasingly.

“You smelled like other people” Peter grumbles.

“I can’t help that. I’m around other people all day.” Stiles points out. “But hey, we have all weekend for you to mark me as yours, OK?”

Peter hums happily at the thought, and leaning forwards, nips lightly at the back of Stiles’ neck, just where it curves into his shoulders.

“Can I mark you here?” he asks.

“And here?” he rubs a thumb softly down Stiles’ throat, just under his Adams apple.

“And here?” he runs his fingers along Stiles’ collarbones.

“Anywhere you want. All yours, all weekend, to do what you want with, remember? That’s our deal.” Stiles tells him, snuggling back further into Peter’s arms, as if it were possible for them to get any closer.

Peter’s gut suddenly twists at the reminder that this is still, when all’s said and done, a paid arrangement.

He reminds himself that Stiles wants to be here, that they both want to be here.

He can’t smell anything but contentment and arousal coming off the younger man, but he can’t help asking.

“Stiles, you do still want this with me, right?  Because you know if you change your mind, you can let me know” he reminds him.

Stiles presses back against him, wiggling his ass.

“Trust me, I want to be here” he assures Peter.

“Now please stop thinking, and spoon me. I need a month’s worth of cuddles and sex and we only have two nights, and you still have to fuck me in my glasses.”

“Three nights actually, I’m leaving Monday morning” Peter tells him, making a snap decision.

“Good. We’ll need every minute of it.” Stiles declares, and his heartbeat is steady, and Peter’s reassured that he really is happy that he’s here.

* * *

 

 

Stiles manages to lay still for half an hour as Peter scents him and rubs his hands over him, before starting to squirm restlessly.

“Peter, I need a shower. This is drying now and it’s gross” he whines, indicating the come on his skin.

Peter’s wolf wants to say no, wants to absolutely forbid Stiles to wash for the entire weekend, but he knows that’s not really reasonable.

 _You could, though, that’s what you’re paying for_  flits through his mind briefly before he stomps on that thought, hard.

He considers his options.

Finally, he lets Stiles out of his grasp, and the younger man dashes to the shower.

When he comes back out though, he sees the look on Peter face and sighs.

“You look so damned disappointed that I’m clean” he comments.

“Want to dirty me up again?”

“Not exactly” Peter says.

“It’s true though, I’m feeling territorial. Indulge me?”

“Depends. What are you going to do?” Stiles asks curiously, even as he climbs happily back onto the bed.

Peter leans forwards and licks one long stripe from Stiles’ navel all the way up to his throat, where he sucks a huge purple mark, and then bites just hard enough that it’s circled with the imprint of his teeth.

He brings his head up, licking his lips, to see Stiles looking at him with an odd expression on his face.

Shit, he thinks, he’s taken the wolf thing too far.

But Stiles doesn’t seem upset, it’s more like he’s considering something.

“I wonder” Stiles muses “if your tongue would feel different if you were shifted. Want to find out?” he asks, eyes bright with excitement.

Peter stills.

“Really? Are you sure?” he asks.

“Peter. Your wolf is hot, OK?  It does things to me. Indulge me” he quotes back at him.

Peter does.

And yes, apparently his tongue does feel _very_ different, if the moans Stiles lets out as he licks and bite his body are anything to go by.

He leaves the promised marks on his neck and collarbones, feeling deeply satisfied at the visible evidence of his claim, even as he’s careful not to break the skin with his fangs.

When Peter starts to lick around his nipples, Stiles whimpers softly.

Peter stops instantly, lifting his head to check that Stiles is OK.

Stiles is more that OK.

He has his head thrown to the side, presenting Peter with the delicate arch of his neck, and he’s flushed and panting softly.

“All right, darling?” Peter asks through his mouthful of extra teeth.

“Want you to fuck me like this” Stiles pleads.

Peter growls lowly at the thought.

It’s beyond tempting, and Stiles is asking him to.

“Let me know if it’s too rough, or I’m hurting you?”

“Mmhm I promise” Stiles tells him.

Peter leans forwards to that tempting neck, and sucks one more mark into it before reaching for the lube.

He pauses, considering.

He shifts back.

Stiles furrows his brow, saying “No? You don’t want to?”

“Oh, I want to Stiles, don’t doubt it, but some things are better without claws, trust me” he tells him, smirking as he slides the first finger into Stiles’ tight ass.

He sees the moment Stiles realises what he’s talking about, and understanding floods his features.

“If you wanted, I could do that part, and you could watch” he offers.

Peter shakes his head.

“God no, I love watching you open up for me.”

He adds a second finger, and Stiles gasps in pleasure.

Peter slowly works him open, and he’s so tight that he has to ask.

“Stiles, haven’t you used any of the toys you brought with you?”

Stiles shakes his head, and he suddenly looks shy.

“I tried it once, and it wasn’t the same. Wasn’t as good as being with you” he confesses.

“Oh, really? You’re telling me I’m that good?” he teases.

Stiles hesitates before he adds “It felt like cheating”.

Peter’s expression can only be described as gleeful.

“Oh sweetheart, are you saying I’ve ruined you for anyone else?”

Stiles huffs out “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late” Peter singsongs, even as he works a third finger in, and all discussion comes to a temporary halt when he quickly adds a fourth.

Peter takes great pleasure in torturing Stiles for the next half an hour, continuing to finger him, then lick him out, then stretch him even further until he’s a trembling mess, begging Peter to just fuck him already.

“Trust me, you need this if you want to be able to take me as a wolf” Peter tells him.

“Do you still want that?”

“Fuck, yes” he moans out.

Peter positions himself between Stiles legs, and hitches his ankles over his shoulders, before asking “Ready?”

Stiles grins, and nods.

Peter shifts then, and rumbles low in his chest as he lines himself up and sinks ever so slowly into Stiles’ waiting heat.

He’s definitely bigger in this form, and he has to stop and take a deep breath when he bottoms out, because otherwise he’s going to come there and then, it’s so tight.

Stiles lets out a grunt at the sensation of being so thoroughly filled.

After a few moments, he manages to speak.

“Fuck. S’big.” is all he can manage.

Peter starts rocking gently, not pulling out yet, just nudging forwards with his hips, waiting.

“I’m good” Stiles finally tells him.

He adds then “and don’t hold back.”

Peter absolutely doesn’t.

He pulls out painfully slowly, and then hammers back in with a growl, showing his fangs, flashing his eyes.

“Fuck, that’s hot” Stiles breathes.

Every time he says it, Peter’s surprised all over again.

And it spurs him on to slam home even harder.

Stiles is making noises of pleasure as Peter picks up his pace, moaning and gasping as Peter nails his prostate relentlessly.

Peter knows he won’t last long, he feels everything so much more as a wolf, and he starts growling continuously as he feels himself getting closer.

Stiles starts stroking himself in time to the thrusts, and before long he’s gasping out Peter’s name.

He comes suddenly with a loud cry, and Peter follows shortly after

His hips continue pumping slowly as he comes down from his high, and he nuzzles into Stiles’neck and nips him sharply, fangs be damned.

He can’t find it in himself to be sorry when he sees the vivid mark he’s left behind.

It’s a claim.

As they lay there, recovering together, he feels himself soften and slip out of Stiles’ body, and he starts to roll off to one side, but Stiles puts a hand out to stop him.

“Can you just….stay there? I kinda like it when you cover me like this” he says.

Peter rearranges himself so he’s leaning on his elbows over Stiles, and peppers his face softly with kisses.  He scents him, and hums softly.

He’s still in his shifted form, and Stiles runs his hand over his face, exploring the ridges, stroking the hair on the side of his face, and Peter can see the fascination in his eyes.

“This is amazing, Peter“ he murmurs. “Thank you for showing me.”

Peter’s torn between shifting back so he can have a decent conversation, and soaking up the affectionate touches.

He decides that talking can wait.

 

* * *

 

 

They do talk though, later.

They’re sitting on the sofa, snuggled up together, and Stiles is telling him about how one of his classmates was insisting that Weres have knots, and saying “I swear to god, I was this close to speed dialing you and having you tell him yourself.”

“So why didn’t you?” Peter asks, curious.

“Well, two reasons. One, the lecturer heard him and told him he was an idiot, and that porn isn’t a recognized academic source material.”

Peter snickers.

“And the second reason?” he asks.

“You’re nobody’s business but mine” Stiles says simply.

Peter arches a brow.

“Stiles, do you not want people to know you’re with me? Are you ashamed to be associated with a Were?”

He feels a little disappointed, to be honest.

Stiles considers him a dirty secret.

“Peter, I don’t care who knows.” Stiles reassures him. “But I’m not going to take advantage of you being a wolf. You’re not a party trick for me to use just to win a petty argument with an asshole. You mean more than that.”

Peter hadn’t thought of it quite like that.

“Well I’m glad I’m not just a party trick.”

He can’t help but ask, though.

“My being a Were really doesn’t bother you? At all?”

“Insecurity, thy name is Peter damn Hale” Stiles proclaims loudly, and ducks as Peter throws a decorative pillow at him.

Stiles folds his arms and fixes Peter with a look, and Peter can see that whatever he’s about to say, he means it.

“Peter. I’ve known you were a wolf from day one. It didn’t bother me then, it doesn’t bother me now. It’s part of you, the same as that fantastic damn neck and those thighs that could kill a man. And it’s seriously hot.”

“You keep saying that, Stiles. It’s just that I’m having trouble believing it” Peter admits.

“Well, it’s true, believe it or not. Call me weird if it makes you feel better, but it just pushes all my buttons.”

“Come here and I’ll push your buttons all right” Peter tells him, and grabs him from where he’s sitting and carries him to the bedroom.

Stiles laughs from where Peter’s slung him over his shoulder, saying “See? Shit like this is why you’re hot.”

 

* * *

 

 

Peter has a gift for Stiles.

It's really the only reason he'd insisted on bringing his bag inside.

He wants to give it to him, has since the moment he’s arrived, but he also wants to put it off, because he has a horrible feeling that once Stiles sees it, Peter will be forgotten.

He manages to hold out till Saturday evening.

Stiles is examining the bites and bruises that litter his body in the bathroom mirror proudly.

“I’m a marked man” he declares dramatically.

“Well, you need something to remember me by till next month, sweetheart” Peter tells him, grinning.

He’s never had so much wolfed out sex in his life, and it’s left him feeling incredibly relaxed and at ease with himself.

The time that Stiles topped was a revelation – he was definitely much more sensitive when shifted.

They did have to arrange for a new mattress to be delivered though, after his claws sliced straight though the old one on a particularly delicious thrust.

Stiles had been insufferably smug afterwards.

As he looks at his young lover preening in the mirror, Peter says casually “ I might have bought you a gift.”

Stiles’ reaction is unexpected.

He looks confused.

“Really? Why would you do that?”

Peter’s brow furrows.

“Because I care for you? And I like making you happy?”

“Peter, you being here makes me happy. I don’t need gifts. Whatever it is, I’m sure I don’t need it” Stiles insists.

“Oh. Well OK then, fine. I mean, I thought your own copy of the Hale family bestiary might help with your studies, but if you don’t want it…”he trails off.

Several emotions flit across Stiles’ face – surprise, pleasure, want.

“A copy of your family bestiary. For me” he clarifies.

“If you want it, yes.” Peter says nonchalantly.

He throws Stiles the thumb drive, grinning.

“Hard copy’s in my vault, but it’s still yours. I just thought this might be easier for you to work with” he says.

Stiles stares at the tiny piece of plastic in his hands for a moment.

“Jesus” he breathes.

“Not quite. I have a better beard” Peter replies.

 “It’s too much –“ he starts, but Peter cuts him off.

“If I have to learn to deal with having feelings, you can learn to accept a gift when it’s given to you. Just take the damned thing will you?” Peter tells him firmly.

Stiles looks at Peter, and at the hard drive, and back at Peter.

“I honestly can’t decide if I want to fuck you so hard you wreck another mattress right now, or send you home so I can spend all night with this” he finally says.

Peter hums.

“Well, you can’t actually send me home, because you’re mine till tomorrow, and the old mattress is still there, so the choice should be obvious “ he points out.

“Besides, the file is password protected. You’ll have to earn it” he adds, smirking.

* * *

 

The second time is even better than the first, and the mattress really was beyond saving, anyway.

The password is _cleverboy._

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it folks, the end is nigh! This damned thing has fought me tooth and nail every step of the way, and I rewrote this chapter four times, but I'm happy with how it came out.  
> You'll see there's meant to be another chapter after this, but I'm telling you now, that's just going to be a porny epilogue.

Peter wakes early on Sunday morning to the sound of a mouse clicking.

He rolls over and sees Stiles sitting up in bed with his laptop, scrolling through the pages of the bestiary, glasses perched on his nose and an absorbed look on his face.

He glances over when he feels Peter move and says “Oh hey, sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Peter props himself up on one elbow, peering at the screen.

“Having fun?” he asks, indicating the page.

“I couldn’t wait any longer” Stiles says sheepishly.

Peter hums, and slides back under the blankets.

“Once I wake up properly, you can put that away and I’ll take you out for breakfast” he mumbles.

 “I thought you’d just want to take me” Stiles quips.

“Well, we could do that too” Peter agrees.

“Tell you what, go back to sleep, and when you wake up again you can take advantage of me.”

“Perfect. And Stiles? Leave the glasses on.”

* * *

 

 

“Shall we walk to breakfast?” Peter asks innocently.

Stiles winces as he stands, and says “Walking? Yeah no, not happening.”

Peter looks genuinely concerned.

“I’m sorry Stiles. Was I too rough?”

“It was fantastic. Wolf sex is awesome. It was possibly the best sex of my life. It’s just left me feeling a little delicate.” Stiles reassures him.

Peter places a hand on his hip, and Stiles sees the black lines snaking up Peter’s arm, and he heaves a tiny sigh of relief as his pain recedes.

‘God, I love your wolfy powers” he sighs.

“Yes, I’m starting to get that impression” Peter smiles.

“So, breakfast?”

‘We’re still driving there, because my legs don’t work. Humans aren’t made to have their knees up around their ears for that long, Peter” Stiles reminds him.

Peter concedes that he has a point.

They get to the coffee shop,  and they’re standing in line when Stiles hears someone calling “Hey, Stilinski!”

He turns to see a guy walking towards him and mutters quietly to Peter “Fuck, it’s Steve. He was the knot guy.”

“Should we ignore him?” Peter murmurs back.

“Too late” Stiles sighs, as Steve approaches them.

“What happened to your neck?” he asks.

Stile’s throat is littered with bruises, and there are several places where the imprints of Peter’s teeth are clearly visible.

Stiles tilts his head back, grinning.

“Sign of a good weekend, Steve-o” he says, knowing perfectly well that Steve hates that name.

“Huh. So what, you finally got lucky for a change?” Steve asks, and there’s a condescending note to his voice that Peter doesn’t care for, he doesn’t care for it at all.

“I may have had a gentleman caller, yes” Stiles tells him.

It’s obvious that Steve hasn’t connected Stiles with the attractive man standing next to him yet, and really, why would he? Peter’s just standing there quietly, watching the exchange with an amused smirk.

“Well Jesus, he didn’t hold back. Looks like you got mauled by a bear” Steve observes snidely.

“Wolf, actually” Stiles says, and his smile just gets wider.

“Oh bullshit, Stilinski. Like you’d sleep with a Were. That’s just nasty.”

Stiles is suddenly just done with this guy.

“Have you ever even met a Were, Steve?” he asks.

“I might have, who knows? It’s not like they go round saying ‘Hi I’m George and I’m a werewolf’ “ he mocks.

Stiles looks at Peter, lifting a brow in query, and Peter nods.

“I beg to differ, Steve. My wolf friend is always polite, aren’t you Peter?”

Peter taps Steve on the shoulder and sticks his hand out.

“Hi. I’m Peter and I’m a werewolf.”

And he flashes his eyes, and growls just a little.

Steve gives a nervous squeak and takes a step backwards.

“Don’t worry, he won’t bite“ Stiles tells him. “He only does that to me, if I’m very good” he leers.

The look on Steve’s face is priceless.

"Now, Steve-o, if you don’t mind, Peter and I would like to order our breakfast. We've worked up quite the appetite” Stiles winks.

After Steve beats a hasty retreat, Peter looks at Stiles consideringly.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know. Introduce me, I mean ”

Stiles shrugs.

“I’m tapping this.” He indicates towards Peter loosely. “Why the hell would I hide it?”

As they eat their breakfast, Stiles gets a few glances at his neck, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it, instead deliberately tilting his head to make the marks even more visible. When one couple stares too long he winks at the woman and tells her “It was a wild night.”

 

* * *

 

 

Monday morning comes around too soon, and Stiles has a 9am class, which means getting up earlier than either of them would like.

Peter drops him off on his way out of town and Stiles pulls him in for a long kiss before getting out of the car.

“For the road” he tells him, grinning.

“See you in a month, sweetheart” Peter tells him fondly.

Stiles watches him drive off, and heads into class.

He misses him already.

The day drags, and that night he’s surprised when Peter doesn’t call, instead sending him a text to tell him he’s home safely.

On Wednesday, he gets home to find Peter waiting for him.

“I was in town, so I thought I’d drop by. Is that OK? I mean, I know it’s not what we agreed” he asks hesitantly.

Stiles answers by dragging him inside by his tie, only briefly stopping to wonder why Peter’s in a suit.

And by the time they’ve made out for a while and had dinner it’s getting late, and so Stiles suggests that Peter might as well stay the night.

He sighs happily when Peter spoons around him as they settle into bed, and it’s not until later that he realises that Peter never actually said why he was in town.

 

* * *

 

 The next week, Peter turns up on Tuesday afternoon.

“I was at the college tweaking some of the course work, thought I’d stop in and make sure you don’t need anything. And I got you a gift.”

It’s a giant Star Wars Lego Death Star kit.

Stiles laughs delightedly, and spends half his evening assembling it.

Peter just watches and smiles while he reads a book, and then Stiles drags him to bed to properly show his gratitude, and neither of them mean for him to stay the night, but they fall asleep afterwards.

 

And then he’s pulling into the driveway at lunchtime on Friday, and bringing two suit bags inside with him.

Stiles looks up from where he’s studying and catches sight of the bags.

“Hey Peter, what’s up?” he asks.

“I hate to ask it of you sweetheart, but I need your help tonight. I’m expected at a fundraising dinner, and if I have to go alone I’ll spend the night fighting off desperate middle aged women and having nobody to appreciate my wit. I may end up stabbing someone with a fork if I don’t have a distraction. Come with me? We can mock the wealthy together.”

“Peter, you are one of the wealthy” Stiles observes.

“Well yes, but I’m charming and wealthy. Whereas these people are pretentious bores. I promise you’ll enjoy yourself. Please?” he asks, and it’s so unusual for him to ask for anything that Stiles knows he’s going to say yes.

He doesn’t give in straight away though, where’s the fun in that?

“I don’t know Peter. You’ve just finished telling me how awful it’s going to be. You’re really not selling it. Tell me again why I’m going to enjoy it?”

Peter grins wickedly. “Because you’ll be with me, of course. I guarantee a night to remember.”

And it is.

Peter produces a tuxedo for Stiles from one of the suit bags, and it fits him suspiciously well.

His own tux matches, and Stiles looks at them admiringly in the mirror before they leave the house.

‘Damn, we’re hot” he says, preening a little.

He’s not wrong. Between the long, lean lines of Stiles’ body and his youthful looks, and Peter’s more muscular build and wickedly attractive features, they cover all the bases.

They spend the evening standing on the periphery of the crowd and making sarcastic comments to each other. Peter is brutal in his assessment of the other guests, and gives a scathing running commentary on who’s sleeping with who, and who’s there to be seen, and who’s tried to seduce him in the past and failed.

 Stiles joins in with his own sharp wit, and finds  that he really is having a good time. He soon sees what Peter meant about fighting off desperate women - even though they’re obviously there together, Stiles is offered two phone numbers during the course of the night, and Peter four.

Not that it’s a competition, Peter tells Stiles later, but he definitely won.

Then he takes him home and rips his shirt off using his claws, which Stiles finds incredibly hot, and refreshes the marks all over his body, and then fucks him until he comes explosively. Afterwards Stiles practically melts into the mattress.

It seems pointless for Peter leave when it’s practically midnight.

And then it’s the weekend anyway, so he says he might as well hang around and see if he can help Stiles with his homework.

Ironically, he actually does have homework, and it really is werewolf anatomy.

Peter spends an hour naked, shifting back and forth while Stiles takes notes on his muscle formation and the differences between his shifted and unshifted states.

Afterwards, there’s a more hands on examination.

 

* * *

 

And just like that, Peter’s suddenly there a lot more often.

At least twice a  week, Stiles will walk home from college and Peter’s car will be there in the driveway waiting for him, and he feels bad about him having to wait outside, even though Peter says it’s fine.

He asks Peter why he doesn’t just text and let him know he’s there so Stiles can come and let him in.

Peter shrugs, and tells him that he doesn’t want to disturb his classes.

In the end,it just makes sense to get another key cut.

There’s one Saturday night when Peter calls him and says “Free tonight? I happened to get my hands on a couple of concert tickets. Want to come along?”

“Who’s the band?” he asks, because he’s not really sure he wants to spend the night listening to old people’s lounge music.

“Eagles of Death Metal” Peter says casually.

Stiles squawks in surprise.

“Bullshit! That’s been sold out for weeks!” he sputters.

“Well, you know, these came across my path. If you’re not interested….”

‘Peter, do you even like Eagles of Death Metal?” Stiles asks suspiciously. “They don’t seem like your sort of thing.”

“Excuse me, I have very diverse tastes. Are you coming or not?”

Stiles ends up sitting on Peter’s shoulders in the mosh pit as he waves his arms madly and sings along, and Peter misses most of the concert because he's so caught up in the scent and the feel of Stiles' muscular thighs wrapped around his head. It's werewolf heaven. By the time they leave Stiles is sweaty and hoarse and his hair is sticking up wildly from his head in a tousled mess, and he’s grinning from ear to ear.  

He’s the polar opposite of the stylish man he was at the fundraising dinner, but Peter finds him just as enticing, and when Stiles pulls him in for a kiss as they’re leaving, he can’t help but press him against the nearest wall and hold him in place as he licks the sweat from his throat.  It’s busy enough that nobody pays much attention to a couple who are high on post-concert adrenaline making out and grinding against each other eagerly, but eventually Peter pulls away, saying “If we don’t get home soon sweetheart, We’re going to be arrested for public indecency.”

“But we aren’t even doing anything indecent!” Stiles argues.

“Not yet, we aren’t” Peter growls “But another minute and we will be.”

He drives them home in record time, and Stiles hums tunelessly, grinning the whole way.

Peter shuts him up when they get home though, pressing their lips together as soon as they’re in the door.  When he finally lets him up for air, Stiles moans and pulls Peter’s body towards him. Peter can feel that Stiles is hard against him, and he slides a hand down between them and undoes his pants so that he can slip one hand inside and start to stroke him firmly.

Stiles’ breath catches when he feels Peter’s hand on him, and soon he’s panting, while at the same time tilting his head to the side submissively and exposing his throat.  Peter growls at that, and starts licking and nibbling at the long pale expanse of throat before him, just worrying the flesh enough to redden it, but  not to bruise it.

“Bed” Stiles demands, and Peter obediently picks him up and carries him there. He spends the next half an hour rubbing himself against Stiles to get rid of the smell of the crowd, before slowly and gently making love to him, being sure to maintain as much skin on skin contact as he can. Stiles moans and writhes beneath him as Peter lays on top of him with his hips pumping in and out lazily, taking his time, marking his claim.

Later, lying next to him, Stiles says “I had a really good time tonight, Peter. Thank you.”

“My pleasure sweetheart. I do love to spoil you.” Peter replies.

And he means it.

* * *

 

 

The year continues at breakneck speed, and neither of them mentions that the once a month visiting guidelines have fallen by the wayside.

One day, Stiles realizes he hasn’t seen Scott in five months due to their conflicting schedules, which is a record for them.  On impulse he calls him and invites him down for the weekend, and the stars must align in their favor because they're both free.

Scott’s completely on board with the idea, and when the weekend arrives Stiles awaits his arrival eagerly.

They hug and high five when he arrives, and Stiles opens the door and ushers Scott inside, only to run into his back when Scott stops short.

“Dude, why didn’t you tell me you live with someone?” he asks.

Stiles shrugs, puzzled. “Because I don’t?“

Scott snorts, and tells him “Nice try, buddy. You totally do.”

‘OK, I might have someone who comes over occasionally, but he doesn’t live here” Stiles protests.

“Um, yeah, he does. His shit’s all over the place.”

Stiles takes a proper look around, then.

There are pairs of Peter’s shoes by the front door. There are two sets of dishes in the drying rack. Peter’s jacket is thrown across the back of the couch.There’s a stack of books next to Peter’s chair, and Stiles wonders when it became Peter’s chair.

He knows if he goes into the kitchen he’ll find a loaf of the disgusting brown bread that Peter favors, along with his preferred brand of coffee, and a jar of smooth peanut butter because the man is a heathen.

And in the bathroom he’ll find a straight blade razor and a toothbrush, and a bottle of fancy shampoo, and a single bottle of scentless body wash, because it was easier to just switch brands than to have more bottles cluttering up the tiny shower, what with the amount of time Peter stays here.

Scott mistakes his silence, and hastens to add “Hey, if he makes you happy man, that’s cool.”

Stiles thinks about that for a minute, and replies “Yeah, you know what? He does” and he puts it out of his mind for the time being.

And then he and Scott spend the afternoon playing Mario Cart and catching up, and swapping stories.

Scott goes to the fridge for a drink, and when he comes back he comments “Whoever it is you’re with, he likes taking care of you. I can tell by how much food you have in your fridge that’s still in date.”

Stiles pouts. “Hey, I might have become responsible. I am capable of going to the store, you know.’

Scott just gives him a knowing look.

“Stiles” he tells him gently “You have _avocado_ in your fridge.”

“Well, Peter makes good guacamole” he replies, before he even thinks about it.

Scott’s eyes widen.

“Wait, it’s Peter? That’s still going on?”

Because of course Stiles had told Scott about Peter, even if he’d skated over the details of how they’d gotten together.

“Kinda. According to Peter we don’t date. We just have an arrangement.”

Scott, for once, is the one to roll his eyes.

“Fine. You’re not dating, you just have a thing, and he’s not living here.“

“Exactly“ Stiles agrees, but he sounds a little less certain than he did.

 

* * *

 

 

The day after Scott leaves, Stiles has a very enlightening lecture in his Were studies class.

He listens, and he takes notes, and a suspicion slowly forms in his mind.

He gets home and does a little further research, and wonders how he could have missed it.

Just then, Peter calls, saying “Hello sweetheart, how was class?”

He replies “Perfect timing. Tell me about the provider instinct in wolf packs.”

Peter snorts.

“So I call you and that’s what you want to discuss?”

“Oh no” Stiles assures him. “I want to discuss plenty of things, but I need your help with this first.”

Peter chuckles, and then walks Stiles through the instinct all werewolves have to provide for those they consider their own, the drive to prove that they’re a worthy suitor to those they care about, and the satisfaction a werewolf feels when his gifts are accepted by their intended, and the urge to mark and claim the ones they love.

“So basically, if you like someone enough, or consider them pack, you just want to buy them shit and make sure they’re cared for? “

“Eloquent as always, Stiles, but basically, yes.”

Stiles goes quiet for a long minute, and then says “Thanks. That confirms what I needed to know. I have to go” and he hangs up.

Peter tries to call back, but his calls go to voicemail.

It takes an hour for Stiles to call back.

“Peter, you are aware that you’re a walking definition of werewolf provider instinct, right?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, sweetheart. I just like to spoil you. Lord knows, I couldn’t leave things how they were.”

“Why couldn’t you leave things as they were?” Stiles presses.

“Well, because you would have been miserable, and it would have been no fun for me watching you mope.”

“Peter” Stiles tries again. “So far this month you’ve been here every second night. Do you even go back to Beacon Hills?”

“Well” Peter hedges “I’m currently quite busy here, so I have a small apartment I stay at when I’m in town. It makes more sense than traveling.”

“So, you’ve basically moved here, I see you every other day, you buy me gifts, take me on dates, cook for me, and pay my bills. But we’re not dating, because you don’t date” Stiles summarizes.

“Exactly” agrees Peter.

“So, if I were to say, tell you that you couldn’t come over for another two weeks because that’s when our agreement specifies you can visit, you’d be fine with that?” Stiles asks skeptically.

“Certainly” Peter says, lying through his teeth.

Stiles hums.

“Luckily for you, I’m not going to hold you to that, but only because I’m a healthy nineteen year old with needs. You can come over if you want, and do that thing where you mark me up and pretend to be sorry afterwards.”

Peter’s there within the hour, and he spends the night, and when he leaves Stiles is sporting a series of vivid love bites and a stupid, fucked out smile.

In the morning, Stiles looks at the marks in the mirror and smiles to himself.

Peter can argue all he wants, but Stiles knows he’ll get there eventually.

He walks to campus, because he lives close, but he walks slowly, because it was a hell of a night.

When he arrives in class, he sees Steve watching him, and muttering something to one of the other guys, who snickers, and gives him an obvious once over.

“Got a problem?” Stiles asks.

“Not me. I don’t look like I got chewed” the guy replies, sneering.

Stiles shrugs.

“Hey, we’re both into it, what can I say?”

“Besides” he adds “Peter’s a babe. Ask Steve, he’s met him.”

“He’s is kinda hot” Steve concedes. “Pretty old, though” he qualifies.

“Experienced” Stiles corrects him.

“Still, can’t he keep it decent? I mean look at yourself, man. He may as well just pee on you to mark you” the guy sniffs.

Stiles replies lightly “I’ll make certain to tell him you disapprove. I’m sure he’ll be devastated.”

And he thinks about what these guys would think if he told them about Peter rubbing his come into his skin, and licking him,  and he smiles to himself.

 

* * *

 

He calls Peter that night.

“So, word in class is that I’m dating an old but very attractive Werewolf, who mauled me within an inch of my life” he tells him, amused.

“Rude. Only one of those things is true” Peter responds.

“I guess. You are pretty old” Stiles agrees.

Peter huffs and hangs up.

He calls back half an hour later.

“Two of those things” he concedes, before hanging up again, and leaving Stiles to ponder what he's said.

His phone stays silent for what seems like hours, but is actually no more than ten minutes.

He picks up on the first ring, answering with a smooth “Hello, sweetheart.”

“So you admit it?” Stiles asks.

“It has recently come to my attention that what some people would call an arrangement, other people might call my wolf providing in an effort to gain your affections, because I care for you more than I had originally thought” he admits.

There’s silence on the line as Stiles waits.

“I‘d like to come over tonight and revisit our agreement, if that’s OK” Peter finally says.

“Oh, I think I can fit you into my busy schedule” Stiles tells him smugly.

 

* * *

 

 

The new arrangement takes an incredibly long time to renegotiate, but only because Peter keeps trying to distract Stiles with kisses.

But in the end, it’s fairly simple.

 

Peter asks if it would be too awkward for Stiles if he takes the lecturing position at the university that they’ve been trying to talk him into for months.

Stiles tells him that he has no problem with it, as long as the college is fine with them _dating_ ( and he stresses the word) and Peter can manage not to call him _sweetheart_ in class.

Apparently it’s not an issue – they’ll do anything to get Peter on staff.

 

With that out of the way, they work on the important stuff.

 

 

Stiles finally agrees to let Peter replace that deathtrap he’s been driving.

 

 

Peter agrees to just move in already and stop pretending he’s not living there.

 

 

Stiles concedes that he guesses a European holiday during semester break wouldn’t be so terrible, if Peter truly feels the need to take him traveling.

 

 

Peter explains that he just wants to spoil him, because his wolf demands it, because fuck it, he loves him, and you can stop your damned gloating anytime, Stiles.

 

 

The negotiations come to an abrupt halt as Stiles climbs into Peter’s lap and takes his face in both hands and kisses him with feeling, and tells him “Pretty sure I love you too, Peter. You’re it for me. It just took me a while to realize it.”

 

 

Peter’s face breaks into a wide smile, and he tells him “I knew you’d figure it out, my clever boy.”

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles loves it when Peter fucks him, loves the feeling of being filled, of being manhandled, loves it when Peter displays his strength.  
> But he also loves it when Peter bottoms, loves to see the look on his face when Stiles slides into him, loves to hear the moans and gasps he makes as Stiles expertly fucks him.  
> And tonight, he plans to make him beg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta Dah! Finally, I actually finished something! With no side stories, one shots, extra chapters, or anything.  
> Nobdoy's more surprised than me!  
> I hope you enjoy it, Mr Almasy!

Peter’s first day teaching is interesting, to say the least.

He sits casually behind the desk, flicking through a file while the students file in.

Steve sees him sitting there, and hisses to his classmate  “Why is there a Were in class?”

Without lifting his eyes from his reading, Peter drawls “Werewolves have excellent hearing, Steven. Do try and remember that.”

Steve flushes, and keeps glancing at Stiles.

Stiles just waves and gives him a shit eating grin.

When everyone’s settled in their seats, Peter finally stands, and casts an eye over them.

“My name is Peter Hale, I’m a Were, and I’ll be teaching this class. Every week, for two hours, your ass is _mine_.”

The class is silent.

“Nobody has anything to say? Excellent, then let’s start” says Peter, and he closes his eyes, and shifts.

When he opens them his eyes flash blue, and a hushed _aaaaah_ goes through the class.

Stiles hears someone whispering “Hot damn” and he knows Peter hears it too.

Peter stands there fully shifted, eyes glowing blue, pointed ears and ridged face on display for all to see. The extra muscles in his chest and arms are clearly visible through his fitted shirt as he puts his hands on his hips.

“Come closer, if you’re brave enough” he invites them grinning dangerously.

The only one who hesitates is Steve.

In fact, there’s a surge forwards as they all try to get close at once.

And nobody screws up their face, or squeals in disgust.

All Stiles can hear is admiration as the other students get up close and personal with Peter’s wolf.

And Stiles can see Peter’s relaxed and confident as he shifts back and forth, and flicks his claws in and out, until finally he shifts back for good.

There’s a small chorus of “aaaw”s  from the class, and Peter preens a little.

Stiles is still in his seat, and he catches Peter’s eye and gives him a soft smile.

It says everything.

Peter returns it.

Then he addresses the rest of the class, saying “Right, now that’s out of the way. Nobody in my class can say they haven’t seen a shifted Were. And there’s another thing I want to address right now.”

He writes on bold letters on the board

**_Werewolves don’t have a knot._ **

Underneath he writes

**_Yes I’m really sure_ **

Stiles snorts loudly.

“As long as I’m teaching this class, I don’t want to hear the word knot from a single one of you unless it involves actual rope. Are we clear?”

There’s a murmur of assent from the class.

He proceeds with the rest of the lesson, and Stiles discovers that Peter’s really a very good teacher. He’s authoritative, and engaging, and concise, and Stiles thinks that if he wasn’t already living with Peter, he’d be trying his damnedest to get his hands on him.

He’s not blind, and he can see the admiring glances that Peter gets from several of the girls and a couple of the guys in class.

His gut gives a queer little twist, and he suddenly wants to hiss and scratch at them for looking at what’s his.

But he’s an adult, so he settles for shooting them dirty looks.

Peter notices, of course.

As class draws to a close, he calls out “One more thing.”

The students all pay attention immediately.

“Just in case anybody’s unaware, I am in a in a relationship with one of the students in this class. It’s not an issue for the faculty, and I don’t expect it to be an issue for any of you. If it is, feel free to switch classes. Stiles and I will happily wave you goodbye as you leave.”

He looks directly at Steve as he speaks, who looks away, squirming .

Peter is making a public statement about his relationship with Stiles.

Stiles can get behind that.

He goes over to where Peter’s standing, and whispers “I’m fucking you senseless tonight” before giving him a tiny peck on the cheek and walking out of the room, leaving Peter grinning wickedly.

This was already one of his favorite classes, and he can see that’s not going to change any time soon.

 

* * *

 

 

“Honey, I’m home!” Stiles calls out as he comes in the door, and into the house where they live together now, like an actual couple.

 “Kitchen” Peter calls back, and Stile can smell something delicious wafting through the house.

“How was your day, darling?” Peter asks him as he enters the room and wraps himself around Peter’s back like an octopus.

“Hmm. Was good” Stiles tells him.

His eyes glint with mischief as he says “We got a new lecturer in Werewolves today. Guy’s smoking hot, I’d climb him like a tree.”

“Oh really? What’s he like?” Peter asks, raising an eyebrow.

Stiles pretends to consider for a moment.

“Well, he’s hot, but possibly a little cocky.”

“Hmmm. Maybe he’s just confident” Peter counters, turning and running his hands over Stiles’ denim clad ass.

“Definitely cocky” Stiles states firmly. “Needs someone to show him who’s boss.”

“Oh?  And you’d do that?”

‘Oh, absolutely” Stiles confirms, tilting his head back so Peter can scent him.

“Do tell, I’d love to hear what you’d do, sweetheart.” Peter purrs.

Stiles leans over and turns the oven off. They won’t be eating anytime soon.

“Well first, I’d take him into the bedroom “Stiles says, as he leads Peter there by the hand.

‘Then I’d take off his shirt, and his shoes, and finally his pants“ Stiles continues, as his hands busily divest Peter of his garments. Once he’s naked in front of him, he leans forwards and sucks a mark into Peter’s collarbone, knowing it will disappear within minutes, and not caring.

Peter holds his head in place as he sucks and bites, make small humming sounds. Once he’s marked Peter to his satisfaction, Stiles lifts his head and continues.

“I’d strip as well, so he could see what he’s getting.”

Stiles undresses as he speaks.

“I’m sure he’d like that“ Peter hums.

“Damn right he would. Did I mention he’s a wolf? He’d see this throat and go wild” Stiles teases, throwing his head back.

Peter growls.

“Too bad for him that you’re all mine then, isn’t it? Only I get to see you naked.”

“Aw, don’t you want to hear the rest of my plan?” Stiles pouts.

“Not when you can show me instead” Peter breathes in his ear, as he pulls Stiles forwards so that their bodies are touching.

“Want to take you apart” Stiles murmurs back ”and then fuck you.”

Peter cocks his head to one side as if he’s considering it. “I think I like this plan” he finally decides, grinning sharply.

Stiles presses their bodies together, resting his hands on Peter’s ass and running them lightly over the toned flesh. Peter’s ass is a work of art, tight and muscled, and Stiles massages the flesh lightly as he holds Peter close.

“God I love your ass. Gonna wreck it” he promises.

Peter hums his approval, walking them over to the bed together.

“Do your worst, darling. You know what I like” he says, eyes shining with excitement.

Peter hadn’t been lying at the start of their relationship when he told Stiles that he loved to bottom. And Stiles knows exactly how to reduce him to a quivering mess, just the way he likes.

He pushes Peter back onto the bed so he’s lying flat on his back, and settles himself into the V between his legs. He looks down at the body spread out before him, and sighs happily.

Stiles loves it when Peter fucks him, loves the feeling of being filled, of being manhandled, loves it when Peter displays his strength. But he also loves it when Peter bottoms, loves to see the look on his face when Stiles slides into him, loves to hear the moans and gasps he makes as Stiles expertly fucks him.

And tonight, he plans to make him beg.

First things first, though.

He leans forwards and kisses Peter deeply, thoroughly, before pulling away and murmuring “I love you, Peter.”

“Love you too, Stiles” Peter tells him, smiling.

Stiles gets a gleam in his eye then, and says “But for the next two hours, your ass is _mine_.”

And he begins.

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles starts by gently running the pads of his thumbs over Peter’s nipples, just barely touching the flesh, and then blowing softly on them, one at a time, and watching as the nubs harden as he teases them. He leans down and takes one in his mouth, flicking his tongue expertly across the tip before biting down, causing Peter to gasp sharply.

He repeats the treatment on the other nipple, and gets the same response. Peter arches his back into the touch, and Stiles bites down a little harder.  Peter lets out a soft moan, and puts his hands on the back of Stiles’ head, holding him in place.

Stiles grins against his flesh as he sucks and bites and laves around his nipple, teasing and torturing the flesh until it’s red and swollen. He knows it’ll only last about a second, but he loves to do it anyway, and if the soft noises Peter’s making are any indication, he’s enjoying it just as much as Stiles is.

He switches back and gives the same treatment to the other side, his teeth dragging over the pebbled flesh and drawing a loud groan from Peter.

He starts to suck in earnest, while rolling the other abused teat in his hand so that Peter is subjected to the dual sensations of the deep pull of his mouth and the sharp tug of his fingers. He keeps going until Peter actually whines.

Stiles lifts his head then and looks up to see Peter with his head back, eyes closed, and lips parted as he pants and sighs.

Stiles starts to work his way down Peter’s body, peppering his chest and stomach with kisses, sometimes stopping to suck a mark into the flesh, sometimes just kissing lightly and then blowing against the skin.  Peter squirms under the attention, huffing out “Any time you’d like to start, Stiles.”

“Oh, you mean like this?” Stiles asks innocently, as he places a single kiss on the flushed head of Peter’s cock.

“Or this?” he says, gently running a thumb up Peter’s shaft. Peter’s cock twitches in response, and he bucks his hips up looking for more contact.

He’s not a cruel person, not really, so he doesn’t make Peter beg, but instead takes him in his mouth, enveloping him in warmth and wetness. Peter whines a little at the sudden sensation, and Stiles starts to smoothly move his head up and down, setting a steady rhythm as he hollow his cheeks and sucks, the way Peter’s taught him.

It really is a testament to how good a teacher Peter is that Stiles can take him apart so thoroughly.

Within minutes Peter has his fingers threaded through Stiles’ hair, guiding him as he begins to move faster. Stiles is doing things with his tongue, flicking it across the head, catching the salty tang of precome as he does. Peter’s hips are moving of their own volition, and Stiles can feel he’s getting close, so he pulls off.

“Roll over for me, baby” he croons, and Peter say a word about being called baby, just scrambles to roll over onto his stomach and present his ass to Stiles.

He kneels with his ass up and his head down, and sneaks one hand underneath so he can stroke himself.

“Hands off” Stiles chides, and slaps the hand away. Peter glares at him, but Stiles ignores it.

He slides his hands over Peter’s delicious ass, gently pulling it open so he can see the dusky color of Peter’s hole.

He leans in and licks gently, just flicking the tip of his tongue back and forth a few times. Rimming’s not really his thing, they both know it, but he does like to tease Peter a little, and he gets a low moan for his efforts. He licks a few more times, firmer now, with the flat of his tongue, and Peter groans again.

“Don’t be such a damned tease, Stiles” he grumbles, and goes back to stroking his cock.

Stiles tries to swat his hand away again, but Peter’s having none of it.

“If you were doing your job, I wouldn’t need to touch myself” he grouses.

Stiles doesn’t reply, just goes back to licking broad stripes across Peter’s hole until he feels the muscles relax a little, and then retrieving the lube and slicking up his fingers.

Peter loves Stiles’ hands, loves those long, clever fingers, loves the way he uses them to tease him and please him.

Stiles carefully slides one of those long, clever fingers into him now, and Peter’s breath hitches.

Stiles slides the single digit in and out, in and out, with plenty of lube to ease the way, slowly, slowly stretching Peter out enough so that when he finally adds a second finger it slides in easily.

Peter squirms a little at the extra intrusion, but he’s pressing himself back against Stiles’ hand as he does, so Stiles takes it as encouragement and keeps going.

He twists his hand around and crooks his fingers just so, grinning when Peter jumps a little as Stiles unerringly targets his prostate. He really does have very long, very nimble fingers, and he knows exactly how to use them in all the best ways.

He teases Peter for long minutes, sometimes targeting his prostate, sometimes stopping just short, stretching and pulling at his rim as the fingers work steadily in and out until Stiles is satisfied that Peter’s desperate enough.

“Another one?” he asks him teasingly.

“Fuck, yes” Peter manages. He’s still stroking his cock, still pressing back onto Stiles’ hand, still grunting with every press against the nub of flesh inside him.

Stiles adds two.

He hears a sharp intake of breath, but he’s done this often enough to know that it’s a good thing. Peter likes a little burn with his stretch. He twists his hand as he presses forwards, and rubs over Peter’s prostate continuously, until Peter’s moaning and fucking himself back on his hand, and the hand stroking his cock speeds up until it’s almost a blur.  Stiles forces all four fingers inside roughly, one last time, as Peter comes with a shout.

He’s still panting as Stiles gently removes his hand and rolls him onto his back.

“God, you look so good like this” Stiles murmurs in a low tone, his voice laced with lust.

And Peter does. His normally perfect hair is tousled and soft, and his blue eyes are dark with desire. His cheeks are flushed pink, his mouth is open, and he’s come so hard that there are streaks of it on his chest .  He looks up and Stiles and smirks, saying “I always look good, sweetheart. Now fuck me.”

Stiles is hard and leaking, and he hastily positions himself where Peter’s spread his legs as wide as they’ll go. He’s incredibly limber, and Stiles has plenty of room to maneuver himself so that the head of his cock is brushing against Peter’s entrance.

He presses forwards, the tip barely teasing, before pulling back. He nudges and nudges and nudges, never penetrating, just stimulating the nerve endings there, until he sees Peter start to harden up again, as he knew he would.

Stiles knows what Peter likes, and what Peter likes is to be teased until he’s begging.

Peter tries to press back, tries to catch the head of his cock and force it in, but Stiles has played this game often enough that he knows exactly when to pull back, leaving Peter whining in frustration.

“Goddammit Stiles, I thought you were going to fuck me” he huffs out, frustrated.

“No, I said I was going to take you apart, then fuck you” Stiles corrects.

“You’re still talking, so I obviously have some work to do.”

He continues to nudge and tease Peter’s rim with his cock, but now he bends his head and resumes torturing his nipples at the same time. He’s never predictable – one moment it’s soft licks and kisses, and a moment later he’ll grasp the nub between his teeth and pull, stretching out the flesh and making Peter curse loudly as he’s caught between pain and pleasure.

Peter’s hard again, and Stiles cups his balls and rolls them softly, before gently, gently, running a single long finger up and down his cock.

Peter whines in the back of his throat, and Stiles grins wickedly.

Nearly there.

He pulls back and settles himself between Peter’s legs, before leaning forwards and placing both thumbs at his entrance. He slips them inside, and then pulls them both sideways so that Peter’s stretched wide and open before him.

He holds him like that for just a moment, before removing his thumbs with a pop.

‘Think you can take me yet?” he asks.

It’s a legitimate question. Stiles is fairly well endowed, and Peter’s werewolf healing means he never stays truly loose for long.

It makes for a tight fit every time, which is why they both love it so.

‘Come on, come on, come on” Peter chants under his breath, fisting his cock and starting to stroke himself again.

Stiles takes pity on him, and covering Peter’s body with his own, he reaches down and lines up, and finally sinks in, letting out a broken moan as he feels Peter’s hole relax enough to let him in as he presses deep inside the older man. He stills for a moment, enjoying the velvety feel of Peter’s insides against his cock.

Peter’s eyes snap open, and they’re glowing.

“Please” he pants out, and he sounds desperate.

Stiles starts to move then, slowly dragging in and out, aiming for Peter’s prostate, angling himself so that he gets in good and deep every time. Peter’s started making deep guttural grunting noises in time with Stiles' thrusts, and rocking his hips.

Stiles pauses for just a moment, grabbing Peter’s hand where it’s wrapped around his cock and stilling it, before dragging it up over his head. He grabs his other wrist, and pins them both over Peter’s head, leaving him looking pinned down and helpless.

“Going to fuck you till you scream” he promises, and then he starts moving in earnest.

Peter’s stronger than Stiles, no question, but Stiles has enough muscle of his own that he can slam forwards into Peter hard enough to make him shudder with the force of it. Peter’s eyes are closed, and his mouth’s hanging open, and Stiles can see the rise and fall of his chest as his breathing becomes more labored the closer he gets to his climax.

Stiles circles his hips as he thrusts, and sees Peter’s eyes snap open as he hits him right in the good spot, and then he just starts hammering relentlessly home, hard and fast and desperate, with no finesse and no holding back.

Peter can only manage a series of half formed words, muttered _yesses_ and _fucks_ and _mores,_ and his hips are coming up to meet Stiles on every thrust.

He’s not screaming yet, but Stiles knows how to fix that.

He leans down and bites _hard_ on the soft curve of Peter’s neck just as he slams into him, and Peter shrieks.

He comes without warning, spilling all over himself, making a mess between them even as Stiles continues to pound into him without pausing.

Stiles feels Peter’s ass clench and flex as it tightens around him, and he thrusts into the tightness eagerly, chasing his own release.

Peter’s moaning brokenly below him, squirming, and the sight of his lover reduced to a panting wreck is what finally sends Stiles spiraling into ecstasy.

He drives home one last time, his cock swelling and pulsing as he floods Peter’s body.

They’re both panting like they’ve run a marathon, and Stiles releases Peter’s hands and props himself on his elbows, leaning down for a kiss.

Peter kisses him lazily back, and now that he has his hands back, he runs them down Stiles’ body in a gentle caress.

Stiles gently pulls out, rolling off to one side and laying there. The only sound is that of their breathing as it gradually returns to normal.

They don’t speak, just stay where they are, contentedly basking in the pleasure of being in their bed together. They don’t sleep, but it’s long minutes before either of them moves.

* * *

 

It’s 8 pm before they get round to dinner, and Peter’s beautiful lasagna is slightly soggy and half cold, but they don’t care.

“Oh God, so hungry” Stiles moans, as he shovels in a mouthful of cold pasta.

Peter smirks at him. “Well you did burn a lot of energy before, sweetheart.”

Stiles sighs happily.

“I love taking you apart like that, Peter.”

Peter hums in agreement.

“You do it so well too, clever boy” he says, and closes his eyes briefly, smiling at the memory.

Stiles looks at him for a moment, and says “This is our life now, isn’t it?”

“This is our life now” Peter agrees.

Stiles grins at him.

“It’s pretty perfect, really.”

“It’s almost perfect’ Peter corrects him.

Stiles groans, because he knows what’s coming.

It’s their only bone of contention.

“I’m just saying, if we moved somewhere nicer, we could have a decent bathroom. Think of all the shower sex we’re missing” Peter points out for possibly the twentieth time.

“And your lease is up in a month” Peter carries on.

He’s  like a dog with a bone.

  
“And now that we’re living together, your father finding out I’m paying isn’t an issue” he presses.

Noah had actually taken the news of them moving in together remarkably calmly. It was almost as if he wasn’t even surprised.

Stiles rolls his eyes, and says “You know what? Fine. Fine. We’ll move.” And he throws his arms up in defeat.

“And I can choose?” Peter asks hopefully.

Stiles sighs. “You can choose.”

“Excellent. I do have outstanding taste, you know” Peter reminds him, and wraps his arms around him from behind, nuzzling into the side of his neck.

Stiles melts a little into his touch, and hums.

“You really do” he agrees.

 

 

 


End file.
